


Providence

by Bre, So_Caffeinated (so_caffeinated)



Series: Forever Is Composed of Nows [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Ameliam, Character Death, F/M, Graphic Violence, I swear this is not as depressing as the triggers make it sound, Infertility, Off-screen violent death of a (different) child, PTSD, Sex, Traumatic events involving a child/children, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-05 12:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 281,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_caffeinated/pseuds/So_Caffeinated
Summary: Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not.Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she'll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move... And her life.Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started planning this story last spring, I didn’t realize how long it would be or how much of myself I’d give to it. Maybe I should have known. I tend to dive in headfirst into my writing. But this has been a writing experience unlike any other, for me. The first draft took 101 days. It weighed in at a few hundred words shy of 250,000. Since then, with the dedicated help of my betas Mer, Mayra, and Libby as well as Bre’s masterful reworking of many scenes, it’s bulked up more. We are still working on later chapters, but I expect it to run roughly 300k once complete. 
> 
> As usual, this story will update every Monday morning. It will be at least 34 chapters, likely more. Edits may chop some longer chapters into two. Pieces of Always will not regularly update until after Providence is done, but it will carry on at that point. Bre and I are already discussing plans for Schism, the next novel-length work, and Restraint, which follows that. Whether or not Arrow continues beyond next season will have no effect on our continuation of this universe. Our series has been independent of the show for some time now. 
> 
> While Providence is a love story, it has no shortage of achingly difficult topics. Please note the trigger warnings listed below and feel free to message me if you need more information before deciding if you can safely read this. It should be noted that some of these warnings apply as of the first chapter. 
> 
> This is a story more than two years in the making. In December of 2016, I introduced a character initially known as “tent girl.” There was something about this character, something about what she brought out in Will and how they connected together on the page, that sparked the imagination of readers. Because of that, Amelia was born and the long, often painful love story for Ameliam began. 
> 
> And so, this is for you. For the readers who wanted more of her, for those who have stuck with this series for years, for those who have encouraged me along the way. This story would not exist without you. And I would not have had the growth as a writer that I’ve gained from telling it. Thank you for that gift and the gift of your readership. 
> 
> My next writing project is a wholly original work, which I intend to self-publish before the end of this year. You can follow my progress and get updates on my twitter or tumblr (so_caffeinated/so-caffeinated). Writing fanfic - and this series in particular - has given me a strong foundation to draw from and I’m excited to see where my efforts might lead. But, for now, I’m delighted to offer you this. I hope you love Providence. I hope it surprises you and enthralls you. I hope it leaves you in love with these characters and their journey together, as I know writing it has done for me. 
> 
> Thank you,  
> Janis
> 
> Trigger Warnings - Character Death, Graphic Violence, Alcohol abuse, PTSD, Sex, Infertility, Traumatic events involving a child/children, Off-screen violent death of a (different) child, mentions of off-screen suicide (not a known character)

 

 

* * *

 

## Chapter One

_September 2040_

 

Life, for all its twists and turns, has a way of putting you right where you need to be.

 

At least that’s the way it seems to Amelia Prescott. But if you’d told her a year and a half ago that that place would be the Starling City mayor’s office?

 

Well, she would have laughed.

 

Amelia steals a glance around the room, soaking in what’s the same and what’s changed in her years-long absence.

 

She doesn’t know Mayor Laurel Lance all that well. When her one-time-mentor Moira Queen retired, Amelia had left Starling for her boyfriend and the supposedly greener political pastures of Central City. In hindsight, it’s obvious that leaving had been just one in a long line of mistakes. There could have been a place for her here, a role for her in Mayor Lance’s administration.  Instead, she’d taken the safe road and ended up professionally and emotionally gutted when her now-ex-fiancee Thad made it clear she owed a great deal of her career successes to him and Moira.

 

The back of her throat burns with old tears, but Amelia swallows past them. Regrets keep you looking backward and she’s done enough of that. It’s time to press forward.

 

“I suppose this must be familiar to you,” Mayor Lance says.

 

 _Busted_.

 

Shooting the mayor a sheepish smile, Amelia openly surveys the room. “To a degree.”

 

It’s more personal, she notes, than when Moira had been mayor. Small touches that aren’t purely for political benefit litter the space, like the thank-you card on the credenza and the family photos lining her desk. Moira’d had photos, Amelia remembers. But the way they’d been presented had always been tactical, used to humanize her to whoever was in her office. Mayor Lance seems to have picked hers simply because they make her office feel more like she’s left touches of herself on her space.

 

The difference is stark.

 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Amelia adds.

 

“Well, I’m glad I’ll have your vote, anyhow,” Mayor Lance says with a sigh. It rattles a little. The older woman can’t hide her grimace or that her hand floats up to cover an old injury on her midsection that’d nearly stolen her life decades ago. When she catches Amelia watching, she plasters on a smile, sitting up straighter. “That has to count for something, right?”

 

Amelia can’t quite keep the sympathy out of her voice. “Polls not looking so good?”

 

“I won my last reelection by the skin of my teeth,” the mayor admits. Amelia presses her lips together to keep from nodding. She and everyone in Starling City are aware that it nearly came down to a recount. Mayor Lance rubs the bridge of her nose. “And I worry about some of the things I’ve heard about other candidates for the job. Rumors that… Well, you know how they go. It’s too early to even start campaigning again, but crime is up and so are the drop-out rates.”

 

“And it won’t matter that you’re actually working to curb them,” Amelia mulls. “You’re too easy a scapegoat when things go wrong.”

 

The mayor laughs, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you won’t come work for my reelection committee?”

 

She’s only partly kidding, but Amelia knows her answer.

 

“I’m right where you need me,” she tells the mayor. “I’m right where the city needs me, too. If we can get through all the red tape to get this hospital built, it’ll benefit the parts of this city that are struggling the most _and_ it’ll be a feather in your cap. It may even give you the edge you need to win reelection.”

 

“Well, then.” Mayor Lance pushes against her desk to stand, doing her best to hide the effort it takes. “I suppose we’d better get that hospital built.”

 

“For so many reasons,” Amelia agrees, standing and extending her hand to the mayor.

 

Mayor Lance takes it. “It’s good to have you back here, Amelia,” she says, shaking her hand slowly. “I don’t know everything that happened, but I know enough to be certain you got a raw deal.”

 

Amelia’s smile thins as she takes her hand back. “Like I said, I’m right where I need to be.”

 

“For now,” the mayor hedges. She glances at her closed office door before adding a low, “But if anyone is aware of exactly how Moira Queen uses people and twists situations to her advantage, it’s me.”

 

The blatant statement has Amelia freezing and searching her thoughts internally. Does she harbor some bitterness toward Moira for how everything played out? For all the years of manipulation? Yes. But, even with Mayor Lance’s words, it seems a bad idea to express that aloud. _Especially_ within the walls of City Hall.

 

Mayor Lance gives her a heavy look. “Once upon a time, I dated Oliver. Right about the time Will was born… and when he was conceived.” Amelia’s eyes widen, but the older woman isn’t finished. “We were so young. And, Oliver’s a very different man now. But, at the time… Moira liked me. She liked me _for_ Oliver. And, I have no doubt that’s part of why she kept Will’s existence from him.”

 

The casual mention of his name is a battering ram to Amelia’s heart.

 

Despite herself, despite all her claims about being done with regrets, there’s one she can’t let go. One she doesn’t _want_ to let go.

 

Will Queen.

 

She’s loved him since before she understood what that meant, and she’s been infatuated with him for twice as long. Any regrets she has for her life are intimately intertwined with all the ways she ran the other direction whenever a chance at exploring things between them came up. But every time she looked at him, all she saw was the mess, the complications, the challenges, and that absolutely none of it fit with the carefully-woven narrative she’d manufactured for herself.

 

Amelia knows now that a lot of that was thanks to Moira’s influence, but she’s not about to lay all of the blame at her former mentor’s feet. Sure, she was pushed toward Thad DeWolf, the perfect-on-paper politician, but no one forced her to date him. No one forced her to move to Central City and live with him or wear his ring. No one forced her to put everything she had into crafting The Perfect Life, to spend every last breath ignoring her gut, to do all she could to push down the real reason why every smile felt brittle, every word hollow.

 

It was all her - her and the broken pieces she had left when it all crumbled down around her.

 

Realizing that the one man who she thought was the antithesis to everything she wanted for herself was actually everything she needed had taken her way too long. And now…

 

Now it’s just her and unanswered phone calls to a man who doesn’t want to hear her apology.

 

Amelia forces a smile to grace her face. “Moira has always been excellent at getting precisely what she wants,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “At any cost. It made her a hell of a politician and it makes her a devil of a person.”

 

Laurel Lance raises an eyebrow with an approving smirk. “That’s about the sum of it,” she agrees. “For obvious reasons, I wasn’t terribly happy when I found out Will existed. But that little boy… That _man_ has always deserved better than the way his grandmother has treated him. And for what it’s worth, I think you did, too.”

 

Amelia stares at the mayor. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because if even a fraction of what I’ve heard is true, you deserved to hear it. And it was never going to come from her, but it could at least come from someone in this office,” Mayor Lance replies. “A lesser woman would have let an experience like the one you had rattle her confidence.”

 

“It did,” Amelia admits. “But I wasn’t willing to stay rattled.”

 

Approval lights up Laurel’s eyes and she gives a small nod of respect. There’s an almost conspiratorial look to the smile that appears on her face. And, given the circumstances of their meeting, Amelia’s not sure she minds that. She’s lost count of the various roadblocks she’s come up against on her path towards getting the hospital built, but they haven’t stopped her yet. And they won’t. Starling Health Systems is counting on her to follow through, and she has every intention of doing just that. She believes in this facility and the good it will do. And, she’s going to fight whoever she has to in order to get it built.

 

Having an ally like the mayor on her side is a major boost to her mission.

 

“Let’s sit down together again at the end of the week,” the mayor suggests, making her way to her office door. “I know you have meetings with Counselman Wallace and Commissioner Perlinski over the next few days. We’ll need to regroup after that.”

 

“I’ll set something up with your assistant,” Amelia agrees. She pauses to shake the mayor’s hand again. “Always a pleasure, Madam Mayor.”

 

“Likewise, Ms. Prescott,” the mayor replies, looking a little amused at Amelia’s formalness before stepping over to where her assistant sits. “Kenneth, let’s get another meeting with Ms. Prescott on the calendar.”

 

The wiry, thirty-something man sitting at the desk redefines ‘high-strung.’ He gives the mayor a polite nod before pulling up a calendar. It’s a formality, it turns out, because he doesn’t even have to look at it as he starts reciting openings in the mayor’s schedule later in the week. The words fly out in a rapid-fire sequence that leaves Amelia stunned.

 

She holds up a hand. “Uh, Ken-”

 

“Kenneth,” he corrects with a dour look. He doesn’t wait for the ready apology on the tip of her tongue and quickly adds more dates to the list.

 

Before she can ask him to slow down, a high-pitched squeal of delight does the job for her.

 

“Auntie Amelia!”

 

A huge grin crosses Amelia’s face as a whirlwind of force collides with her leg. Laughing lightly, she looks down to find a three-year-old wrapped around her knee in a full-body hug. Somewhere in the background she registers a worried squeak from her best friend, but Amelia’s focus is entirely on her goddaughter.

 

“Hello, my little love,” she greets, scooping up the toddler. “This is a lovely surprise.”

 

“I’m helping Mama,” Deedee informs her with a solemn nod. “‘Cause my sitter’s sick.”

 

“Ah.” Amelia gives the girl a thoughtful nod and brushes some of her jet black hair behind her ear. “Well, Deedee, I’m very sorry to hear she’s sick, but I’m glad you’re here instead. We wouldn’t want you to catch anything.”

 

The clatter of heels against the floor echoes in concert with a heavy diaper bag thumping against Maggie’s hip as she rushes over. “I’m so sorry!” She pauses with a nervous laugh before swallowing hard and looking toward Laurel. “Mrs. Mayor, Madam… Mayor Lance… I’m sorry.”

 

Amelia opens her mouth to save them all from the surge of nerves threatening to spill off of Maggie and drown them all, but little Deedee pats her cheek to pull her attention back where it belongs. A triumphant grin spreads over the toddler’s face when she gets her favorite ‘aunt’s’ whole focus. With an answering smile, Amelia grabs her little hand and loudly kisses each finger as Deedee laughs.

 

The nerves officially spill over.

 

“It was bring her with me or not come in,” Maggie explains, “and I figured she’d be good with coloring books while I work. And she has been. She’s been so good. This contract means _the world_ to me. I wouldn’t have brought her with me if I’d had any other option, I swear.”

 

“Well, now you do,” Amelia replies, bouncing Deedee on her hip. “You’ve got me.”

 

“Yes!” Deedee cheers, hugging her tightly.

 

“Oh, really? You don’t mind?” Maggie’s relief is short-lived when she realizes once again where they are, and who they’re with. She looks from Amelia to the mayor and back again. “You aren’t busy? I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

 

“We were just finishing up,” Amelia assures her. “And I never mind spending some time with my Deedee.”

 

“Bye, Mama,” Deedee says with a dismissive wave to her mother.

 

The mayor chuckles. “I might not have children of my own, but I can appreciate how hard it is to balance your work life and your home life, Mrs. Chen,” she says to Maggie before giving the little girl a strange look, as though she doesn’t quite know what to do with a toddler. “While I’m not _thrilled_ that you brought your daughter with you, I’m glad you’re here, even if it wasn’t easy to do.”

 

Deedee makes an insulted noise. It’s adorable and Amelia fights a laugh as she whispers to the toddler, “ _I’m_ thrilled she brought you, my little love. Seeing you made my day even better.” It mollifies the little girl, who lifts her chin defiantly at the mayor as she cuddles up to Amelia, holding onto her possessively.

 

“The City Hall redesign is huge for me,” Maggie tells the mayor. “This account means so much for my interior design firm, and I really need this for our portfolio. Missing today wasn’t an option.”

 

“I understand,” Mayor Laurel replies. “If Ms. Prescott is willing to babysit…”

 

“Always,” Amelia confirms, bopping Deedee on her little button nose. The toddler giggles and returns the gesture, but Amelia grabs her finger and pretends to bite it, setting off a riot of delighted shrieks from the child. “Shhh, shhh,” Amelia laughs, letting go of Deedee’s finger to hold her own to her lips. “We have to be quiet.”

 

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re my favorite person in the world?” Maggie asks, drawing Amelia’s attention to her frazzled best friend.

 

“Not today,” Amelia replies.

 

“That’s an oversight on my part then.”

 

Amelia grins. “I won’t tell Celeste. Or Jer, for that matter.”

 

“Are Daddy and Auntie C here, too?” Deedee asks, looking around as if they might pop out of the woodwork.

 

“No, sweetie,” Maggie replies. “Daddy’s in Gotham on a business trip and Auntie C is attempting to be a gold miner in Alaska, and I cannot believe I just said those words out loud.”

 

“It’s just us, kiddo,” Amelia says, bouncing the toddler again before looking back to Maggie. “How long do you need to me to keep her?”

 

“An hour?” Maggie asks. “Is that too long? It’s too long. I’ve actually made a lot of progress already.”

 

“No, it’s fine. We’ll just stick around here,” Amelia says. “Spend some time coloring together.”

 

“Oh, I love you,” Maggie declares, handing over the diaper bag. “There are some books and paper and crayons in there, along with Mr. Stuffy.”

 

“Auntie? I’m hungry,” Deedee announces as Amelia shoulders the supplies.

 

The mayor clears her throat. “There are some leftover muffins in the conference room from this morning. I was about to go get one.” She inclines her head towards Deedee. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

 

“You’re not mad I’m _here_?” Deedee challenges, as only a three-year-old can.

 

It’s quite a sight to see the mayor abashed by the criticism of a toddler, but she is. She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, closing her lips and clearing her throat as she blushes.

 

A high-pitched laugh bursts from Maggie’s lips. “Deirdre,” she says through clenched teeth. “That’s _rude_ -”

 

“It’s alright,” Mayor Lance says with a smile before giving the little girl a heavy look. “I might have been a little worried about you getting in the way of work going on. I’m not used to seeing kids around here. But if we go get muffins, we’ll be out of everyone’s way and I think it’ll be just fine that you’re here.”

“ _Good_ ,” Amelia interjects, hugging Deedee. “It’ll be good that you’re here.”

 

“You should have more kids around,” Deedee advises the mayor. Amelia can’t quite hide her little laugh at the toddler’s boldness. “We’re way more fun. Maybe we’d help you be more fun, too. Let’s get muffins.”

 

“Bring me back one,” Kenneth requests, giving Deedee a kind smile. Amelia does a slight double take at the sight, because that’s not the man who was talking to her.

 

“Okay!” Deedee agrees.

 

“Thank you,” Maggie says again, giving Amelia a grateful look and offering the mayor a smile. Then, with a low, “You be good, young lady,” Maggie presses her heavily lipstick-covered lips to Deedee’s pudgy little cheek, leaving behind a brilliant red lip print, and scurries off to get her work done.

 

The toddler waves goodbye as Amelia moves to clean the lipstick remnants.

 

“No,” Deedee says, pushing Amelia’s hand away. She points at her cheek. “That’s my Mama Mark. Mama will get it when she comes back.”

 

A faint smile tugs at Amelia’s lips. Their bond is so sweet, and one she tries very hard not to be jealous of. She’s so glad that Maggie has this, that Deedee does, too. Being the little girl’s favorite not-quite-aunt is a gift in and of itself, and she doesn’t take it for granted. But still… sometimes…

 

“Let’s get muffins!” Deedee declares, pointing down the hall, a baked goods explorer in action.

 

The next thirteen minutes go exactly as Amelia might have predicted them to.

 

Deedee picks the chocolate muffin that might as well be a cupcake without any icing and chatters away as she sits at the conference table. The mayor unearths a pad of paper and some pens for Deedee to draw with, leading to a picture of her family and Aunt Amelia at the park along with _four_ dogs. Amelia has to give her credit; she’s consistent in her request from Santa this year. She’s sure Maggie and Jer will love that.

 

Much to Amelia’s surprise, Mayor Lance sticks around, picking her brain about policy initiatives and regulation shifts. It’s nice. Amelia’s at home here, debating government reform with a community leader while she takes a second here and there to comment on Deedee’s art. The time passes easily.

 

But in the fourteenth minute, everything changes.

 

A crash of glass in the hallway shatters the air, quickly followed by shouts, a scream.

 

Amelia freezes.

 

Even as Deedee pauses in her drawing, looking up with a shaky, “Auntie Amelia?” on her lips, the mayor jumps into action as swiftly as she can, hurrying to the door. It takes Amelia’s mind too long to catch up. She knows this place. She’s safe here. The streets are more dangerous than they have been in decades, but this is City Hall, and it’s broad daylight outside.

 

But, none of that means anything when the windows of the conference room explode inward.

 

Two hulking shadows tumble into the room. Amelia won’t remember later how larger-than-life they appeared in that moment, fear dominating every inch of the room, or the gleam of the knife in one of their hands.

 

No, all she’ll remember is the stark white masks they both wear with black spots where their eyes are supposed to be.

 

Blank. Empty. Soulless.

 

 _Domino’s boys_.

 

“Run!” Laurel shouts, shoving a chair at one of them as hard as she can.

 

Panic surges through Amelia, nailing her feet in place, turning her blood to concrete that threatens to drop her. But then, a high-pitched scream pierces the air and it sets off every instinctive alarm in Amelia’s body. Reality sharpens, time shifting in fits and spurts, lurching forward too quickly as her entire world narrows in on the little girl a few feet away. Amelia can’t catch up, can’t comprehend what’s going on, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except protecting that little girl.

 

It’s only a few seconds, but it feels more like an eternity as Amelia darts for Deedee. The air compresses in around her, morphing into quicksand that makes her every move feel like she’s wading through molasses.

 

The fire alarm bursts to life, blaring sirens drowning out everything else. It terrifies Deedee even more, and she covers her ears with both hands as she sobs, taking big, heaving gulps of air.

 

Amelia grabs the toddler, hauling her up, just as one of the men shoves the table in an effort to get around the chairs the mayor keeps pushing in his way. It clips Deedee’s leg, squishing it between the arm of the chair and the table, making the little girl scream even louder when Amelia yanks her free.

 

“Go!” Laurel shouts as the men gain on her. She pulls more chairs in front of her as Amelia runs to the exit, painfully aware of Deedee’s cries for her mother and the sharp sting of little nails digging into her neck where the toddler clings to her. _This shouldn’t be happening, she shouldn’t be here, this shouldn’t be happening_ , is all she can think as she rips open the door…

 

The hallway is flooded with masks, more of Domino’s boys.

 

There’s nowhere to go.

 

Helplessness nearly sends her to the floor.

 

A startled gasp comes from behind her but before she can comprehend that it’s coming from the mayor, a large hand clamps down on Amelia’s shoulder, tugging her back into the room.

 

Deedee shrieks.

 

“No!” Amelia grits out, clutching the little girl too tight as she whips around, her arm flying up to break his grasp. It’s more accident than anything when her elbow collides with his nose. The man stumbles backwards, his hand reaching to the blank mask where she smacked him. It’s eerie, knowing he’s in pain, but not being able to see it. And it has Amelia’s fear ratcheting up even higher.

 

“Run!” Laurel orders again, strained and breathless.

 

Amelia darts back towards the hall, but another blank mask grabs a man right outside the doorway, wrapping a meaty arm around the civilian’s throat, something metallic catching the overhead light. Only later will she realize it was a knife, and that the man didn’t survive the attack. Right now, all she knows is that she can’t get out of the room.

 

White noise filling her ears, tears burning her eyes so fiercely that her vision blurs around the edges, Amelia glances around, taking stock of the room. Some part of her brain works, absorbing her surroundings - _not the credenza, not enough room, she can’t hide behind the shelf, she’ll still be in danger, the table will crush her_ \- when she sees the small door in the opposite corner of the large conference room. She doesn’t have to think, she just moves.

 

The man she hit is recovering, and he almost takes her feet out from under her as she hurls herself across the room.

 

She dodges him somehow. She will keep this little girl safe, even if it’s the last thing she does. No matter what.

 

“In here,” Amelia says, pulling open the door. It’s a very old storage closet, tiny and crammed with materials. She rips out some boxes, not even feeling the weight before setting the little girl down. She has to pry Deedee’s fingers off her neck, and more tears burn her eyes when Deedee’s screams become even more urgent at the separation. “Shh, shh, get down, sweetie. Get down. You’ll be okay, my little love. I promise. Shh.”

 

Hands shaking, Amelia clicks the old lock on the doorknob before slamming the door shut.

 

The image of little Deedee clasping her chocolate-smeared fingers over her mouth as she curls into a ball will remain seared in her mind for years. The toddler’s fingers dig into her own red-splotched cheeks, smearing the mark her mother’s lipstick left as tears brim in her widened eyes. That’s not the kind of sight anyone easily forgets.  

 

Anger burns through Amelia, eradicating her own fear. She shouldn’t have to do this. No three- year-old should have to go through this. The anger burns hotter, radiating in her chest. That some crime lord decided otherwise pisses her off.

 

The man she elbowed muttering “ _Bitch_ ” as he stumbles towards her doesn’t help.

 

Gritting her teeth against the adrenaline, Amelia grabs the closest thing she can find - a small metal tray filled with loose paper, and swings it at him as hard as she can. Paper flies everywhere as it slaps his shoulder. She does it again and again. Nothing happens. He’s a rock, unmoving, and he bats the tray out of her hands as easily as if it were the paper atop it moments ago.

 

A bright flash catches her eye.

 

The glint of daylight reflecting off a knife held by the other man in the room pulls all her attention. And, for an instant, everything slows down. He has the mayor pinned to the wall, his hand around her throat, hers clawing at him, trying to get air.

 

“Get in Domino’s way and it’s _you_ who falls,” the guy utters in Laurel’s face. She tries to breathe, to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp as she struggles against him. He’s bigger, stronger, and there’s nothing she can do.

 

The mayor doesn’t see the knife until it’s too late.

 

With a visceral shout, Amelia lunges in Laurel’s direction. It’s all instinct, and she has no idea what she’d do if she managed to get there in time. But, none of it matters anyway as the man she elbowed grabs her from behind, pulling her off her feet. Amelia screams, struggling against him, hitting and clawing, kicking his shins.

 

But there’s nothing she can do.

 

She’s helpless.

 

A faceless man shoves his knife into the mayor’s gut, staring her dead in the eye as he twists the blade.

 

If Laurel Lance has any last words, Amelia doesn’t hear them. The only sound is the cacophony of her own screams as the man jerks the knife up, slicing the mayor open. Blood dribbles from Laurel’s mouth, slipping down her chin, eyes turning glassy. He twists the knife again and Amelia watches the life drain out of the older woman. Her face goes slack, her mouth gaping without air, and her screams finally die down to a soundless wail as the man yanks the knife out and steps back.

 

The sound of the mayor’s lifeless body falling to the glass-covered ground will haunt her.

 

Amelia tries to breathe, to think, to do _something_ , but all she can do is watch as the man steps into the blood pooling around the mayor’s body and leans down to wipe his knife on the unsullied shoulder of her suit jacket.

 

“No,” she manages to croak, but even that dies away to nothing.

 

The man finally stands and turns to her. The eyes of the mask are pits of nothing, as lifeless as the mayor’s, but she can _feel_ his gaze on her. Mortal fear crashes through her, stealing her breath away.

 

“Get this over with,” the guy holding her snaps. “We don’t have much time.”

 

They’re going to kill her, she realizes. They’re going to kill her and then Deedee…

 

Cold fury edges out her fear. The need to fight redoubles and she scrambles to come up with a plan for what happens next, for what she should do. She tries to remember everything she learned in those women’s self-defense classes she took with Celeste and Maggie all those years ago. _Oh God, Maggie_. She hopes…

 

No, she doesn’t have time to hope right now.

 

She forces herself to go slack, making herself heavy in her captor’s arms. He doesn’t let her go, but it forces him to support more of her weight, adjusting his hold just enough for her to twist. She doesn’t have enough room, not by a long shot, but it’s all she’s going to get. With all of her might and a yell, she slams the butt of her palm up into his nose.

 

A solid crack sounds and the man shouts in pain, dropping her.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he gasps as he falls to his knees, but Amelia barely hears him.

 

Now would be the time to run, but she isn’t leaving Deedee. She could get past the second man and reach the door. There’s enough room. But, she won’t leave Maggie’s girl, not when these men know where she’s hiding. It’s pointless, foolish even, because her body won’t be much of a barrier once they kill her, but she doesn’t care. She has to do something…

 

The stock of a gun in the back of the man’s pants catches her eye.

 

Amelia doesn’t think, she just acts. Hands shaking so much she can barely feel them, she grabs the pistol and lurches backwards. She loses her balance and falls back on her ass, but instantly steadies herself and points the gun at the men. Her feet scramble against the carpet as she scurries backwards until she hits the closet door. Her breathing is too fast, too shallow, the gun quaking before her.

 

The man she hit stands up as the one who stabbed the mayor takes a step towards her, tilting his head.

 

It’s utterly terrifying with their stark white masks and sightless eyes.

 

A muted sob comes from behind the door.

 

“You’re okay, my little love,” Amelia calls out, her voice shaking. She turns her face slightly to the door, eyes and gun never leaving the men standing before her. “You’re doing great. You’re gonna be fine.”

 

“She might,” her attacker informs her. He moves like a predator and, despite the weapon in her hands, Amelia feels very much like prey. She grits her teeth against a wash of white hot fear as he adds, “But you won’t be.”

 

“I’ll shoot you,” Amelia says, her voice shaking. Heart in her throat and tears in her eyes, she grasps the gun with both hands. “I _will_ shoot you. Go away. Just go away. Leave us alone.”

 

The men laugh and it sends ice down her spine. “You’ve got fight in you,” says the man who killed the mayor. “I’ll give you that much. Too bad you don’t know what you’re doing.”

 

“Wha-”

 

He darts for her.

 

Amelia squeezes the trigger, but nothing happens. _Nothing_. Before she can process what’s going on, the man knocks the gun out of her hands and closes his fingers around her neck.

 

“Forgot the safety,” he informs her, squeezing his hands around her throat.

 

He pulls her upward, wrenching on her neck, forcing her to stand. He doesn’t stop at her height, dragging her up until her toes barely scrape the floor. Bursts of light fill Amelia’s vision as she gasps for air, digging into his hands, trying to get the pressure off, but his grasp is steel. Black spots dance before her eyes, a rush of blood filling her ears, her lungs screaming for oxygen, panic flooding her.

 

The man laughs again, a low throaty noise echoed by his partner behind him.

 

It’s the last thing she’s ever going to hear.

 

_No!_

 

Rage pumps into her veins, fueling the mortal terror, giving life to her will to fight. A primordial surge of strength hits her and she lashes out at him, scraping at his face with her fingers, going for his eyes. She manages to hook one nail in the blacked out sockets of his mask, and she digs in as hard as she can. His pained shout gives her even more strength and when his grasp on her loosens, she takes that opportunity to shove off the door and dig in harder.

 

The move sends them both tumbling to the ground.

 

A rush of cool air slips down her throat and it’s pure torture. Amelia gasps, coughing, the delicate flesh of her neck already swelling. She can’t stop herself from inhaling even harder, fighting for more oxygen, and she coughs against it as the guy shoves her off him, cursing as he covers his eye.

 

Black spots still fill her vision, but she still spies bright red on her fingers.

 

She’s not a vindictive person, but the sight of his blood feels good.

 

“You stupid _bitch_!” the man sputters. “She got my eye!”

 

One hand covering her throat, Amelia uses her other to push herself up, looking around blindly for the gun. She doesn’t know what she’ll do with it, doesn’t even remember where the safety on a gun is or how to turn it off, but it’s better than nothing. She has to protect Deedee, she has to keep her safe. But the gun is nowhere to be seen. The only thing she sees is Laurel’s dead eyes and the pool of her blood, black under the bright sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. Bright red boot prints litter the carpet and shattered glass catches the light under overturned chairs and crumpled papers, including Deedee’s now-ruined drawing.

 

The cock of a hammer has her looking up to a barrel pointed at her head.

 

She freezes, a choked sob falling from her throat.

 

“Gotta say,” the second man says. She can _hear_ the smile in his voice. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

 

 _I failed_ , she thinks, staring at the gun. The only thing on her mind is Deedee, her terrified face, her screams. _I failed you_.

 

Her mind is still spinning out options - maybe if she gets to the window, they’ll follow her. Maybe if the fall doesn’t kill her, it will be enough to get them away from the little girl. Tears burn her eyes. God, she hopes Deedee will be okay. She hopes they shield her eyes when she’s rescued, she hopes her goddaughter doesn’t see her body, she hopes…

 

Amelia lets out another sob, but it’s noiseless, her throat closing, too damaged to speak. It doesn’t hurt, which is a weird blessing in disguise. And it won’t hurt, will it? It’ll never have the chance to.

 

Her vision blurs and for a second, she sees _his_ face, his beautiful smile, and the weight lessens.

 

 _Forgive me, Will_.

 

“Should’ve minded your own business, lady,” the guy says.

 

His finger tightens on the trigger.

 

The shot never comes.

 

Instead, the sound of metal on metal clangs loudly and the gun in the man’s hand goes flying, winding up pinned in the wall by an arrow.

 

Before Amelia can comprehend any of it, two figures swing through the opening where the windows used to be.

 

She never thought she’d be so happy to see vigilantes as she is in that moment.

 

The fight that follows is quick and messy.

 

Daylight catches the midnight blue leather of Tempest’s suit as she flicks her wrist, wrapping her chain whip around her attacker’s leg. He’s momentarily distracted from his eye long enough to realize what she’s doing when she swings him right out the window. His blood-curdling scream lasts long enough for her to hook the other end of her whip to a wall sconce, ending with a loud thud and a desperate shout where he hangs outside by his ankle. The man aiming the gun lunges towards her, and she instinctively knows he’s going to use her as leverage. But, The Arrow is faster. He’s larger than life, taking over the darkness the men had brought with them as he grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and yanks him back, performing a quick series of moves that leave the assailant unarmed and restrained on the ground, his hands behind his back.

 

Amelia knows the second The Arrow sees the mayor’s unmoving form.

 

More tears fill her eyes as the reality of what just happened hits her all over again, her chest caving in beneath the weight of it.

 

“Damn it,” The Arrow hisses, his voice cracking under what must be a voice modulator. “ _Damn_ it.” He shoves the man even harder against the ground, making him yelp before delivering a bone-cracking punch. He hits him again, even harder, a growled curse on his lips, making Amelia flinch. The man won’t be getting up for a long while. The Arrow closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a breath, before he hits a button over his heart. “Overwatch, they… they took out the mayor. Laurel’s dead.”

 

He bows his head against whatever he’s hearing from whoever he’s talking to.

 

Tempest takes a step closer to him. “You okay?”

 

The Arrow clenches his jaw, shaking his head minutely even as he says, “Yeah.” His voice cracks again, and Amelia wonders just how close he was to the mayor. His eyes dart back to her prone form, and even from here she can see the tears in his masked eyes. He swallows hard before standing, glancing at Tempest. “Building secure?”

 

“Sentinel, Dart and Cynisca are cleaning up a few runners,” Tempest replies. “Arsenal, Spartan and Harbinger have the building locked down. It’s ugly, but we’re good.”

 

The Arrow finally looks at Amelia.

 

A fissure slips down her spine when she meets his gaze. She’s never been this close to any of the vigilantes, much less The Arrow. She should be scared, she thinks, even though they saved her life. They’re almost mystical figures, at this point. And yet right now, her back still plastered to the storage closet door, all she feels is…

 

 _Familiarity_.

 

“Do we know who got called to the scene?” The Arrow asks, glancing back at Tempest.

 

“No one we need to worry about,” the woman replies.

 

With a slight nod, The Arrow spares Amelia another glance, sending that same fissure down her spine. She clings to it despite herself as she becomes aware of just how much she’s shaking. She can’t stop. She gasps for air, the terror of reality setting in with a cold wash that leaves her trembling. He must know exactly how she feels, because there’s sympathy in his eyes, in the way his gaze lingers. It slips down to the damage on her throat, and she wonders if she imagines the flash of concern.

 

“Emergency services are on their way, Miss Prescott,” The Arrow says. She starts at the use of her name, that and how strange his now soft voice sounds with distortion. All she can do is blink at him. He gives her a nod before turning away.

 

 _Deedee_.

 

The door is locked.

 

“Wait,” Amelia croaks. It’s not even a croak. It’s barely a squeak, her vocal cords useless.

 

The Arrow turns back.

 

She gestures at the closet door at her back with a whispered, “ _Please_ .” When he frowns in confusion, she spins towards the door, stumbling over her stiffened limbs and numb hands. She drops to her stomach, shoving her fingers under the door. When Deedee touches her hand, a choked sob wrenches out of her throat in a painful gasp, and she pulls back just enough so The Arrow and Tempest can see the tiny fingers reaching for hers. “ _Please_ ,” she says again.

 

Tempest breathes out a string of curses at the sight. “Domino has a _lot_ to answer for.”

 

“He will,” The Arrow replies darkly, stalking towards the door, forcing Amelia to scuttle back. His voice is guarded as he asks Amelia, “You were protecting your child?”

 

“Auntie Amelia?” Deedee’s little voice comes through the door before Amelia can answer the question. It’s rife with terror and it has Amelia damn near throwing herself at the door to get to the girl. “It’s dark.”

 

“I know, my little love,” Amelia rasps, tears in her voice, but it’s nowhere near loud enough for her to hear.

 

“Get back,” The Arrow orders. Amelia grits her teeth against it, ready to wheel around and tell him to shove it, because she needs to get to this little girl. But common sense sets in a second later. She nods, falling back to give him space. Tempest is at her side in the blink of an eye, grabbing her arm and tugging her out of the way. The Arrow inspects the locked doorknob as he asks, “What’s her name?”

 

“Deedee,” Amelia says in barely a whisper.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s Deedee,” Tempest supplies. Amelia can’t read her tone. And she doesn’t see Tempest’s other hand lingering over her back in a comforting gesture before she seemingly changes her mind.

 

“Deedee,” The Arrow calls through the door. “I’m going to get you out of there safely. Okay, kiddo?”

 

“Where’s Auntie Amelia?” a tiny voice answers back on a sob.

 

Amelia’s face twists and it’s only Tempest’s hold on her that keeps her from lunging at the door again.

 

“She’s right here,” The Arrow replies. “She’s okay. She’s waiting for us to get you out.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“What are you thinking?” Tempest asks as the green figure glances over the door.

 

“The door’s old enough. I think I can break it,” The Arrow replies. He steps up to the door again. “Hey, Deedee, I need you to do something so I can get you out, okay? Can you be a helper?”

 

“I’m a good helper,” Deedee says. “Mama says so.”

 

“Good,” The Arrow replies, a slight smile in his voice. “Good. That’s good. I need you to curl up into a little ball, okay? As little as you can. And shut your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are your eyes shut?”

 

“Yes. My eyes are shut real tight.”

 

“This is going to be really loud, but only for a second.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Without preamble, The Arrow steps back, shifts his grip on his bow and rams it down on the doorknob. The old wood splinters, but not enough and The Arrow hits it again. The door jamb cracks. Deedee lets out a startled noise that rips through Amelia. The Arrow says, “Almost there,” before hitting it one more time. The locking mechanism finally snaps as the knob breaks free, falling to the floor with a heavy clunk.

 

“Oh!” Amelia gasps, lurching towards the door. The Arrow steps back as she falls to Deedee’s level and crawls over the broken wood and glass, not feeling the cuts they leave on her hands and knees. She pulls the door open the rest of the way, just enough for Deedee to see her. “Oh, my little love.”

 

“Auntie Amelia!” the little girl cries, launching herself into her arms.

 

There isn’t any pain or fear as Amelia catches the toddler. The only thing she feels is relief that radiates in her bones as she cradles the little girl against her chest. Deedee sobs into her neck, clinging to her. Amelia falls back on her butt, almost collapsing to the ground at the feeling of the little girl whole and unharmed in her arms. Tears burn her eyes, leaking down her cheeks, a sob falling from her throat that hurts the bruised flesh.

 

“Let’s go,” The Arrow murmurs.

 

Amelia looks up just as he passes her and before she can even think, her hand darts out to grab his. The Arrow pauses, his gloved fingers flexing around hers as he looks at her.

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Amelia mouths to him, meeting his gaze before looking at Tempest. “ _Thank you_.”

 

If they hadn’t shown up, if they hadn’t been there at the right time, Amelia would be dead. And, at best Deedee would be stuck in the closet for God only knows how long, alone and terrified. If that man had pulled the trigger… Amelia’s eyes slip to the mayor, taking in her sightless, glassy eyes and the pool of sticky, thick blood surrounding her. She’s never seen death like this before, not sudden, violent, and up close. The experience would have left its mark on her even if she hadn’t come close to following in the mayor’s footsteps. And, despite what she might wish, it’ll leave it’s mark on Deedee. The little girl heard all of this happen. And, God, she very nearly experienced so much worse. If she hadn’t been rescued, Amelia would have wound up slumped over in front of the door, her cold blood leaking under the crack of the door as Deedee waited for someone to rescue her...

 

That is, if they’d let Deedee live at all.

 

But that didn’t happen. Amelia’s alive and Deedee’s safe.

 

_No thanks to her._

 

Amelia couldn’t do that for the little girl. She couldn’t do anything.

 

Shame burns her chest, but it’s got nothing on the relief that nearly bowls her over.

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Amelia repeats. _You did what I couldn’t do, what I could never have done._ She tries to speak those words, but her voice is barely a rasp anymore.

 

“You’re welcome,” The Arrow replies. He holds her hand back as he adds, “You’re important to this city, Miss Prescott. And to a lot of the people in it.” There’s a weight to his words that makes her pause, her brow furrowing, and then he nods to the little girl in her arms. “Including some very little people, it seems.”

 

Right.

 

Amelia manages a nod and then The Arrow lets her go. She cups the back of Deedee’s head, giving both the vigilantes a grateful smile before turning her face into the little girl’s hair, pressing a kiss to her dark locks.

 

The Arrow’s eyes drift back to the mayor’s body one last time, lingering.

 

“You good?” Tempest asks softly, even though the answer is obvious.

 

A sad smile on his lips, The Arrow nods. “Let’s go.”

 

They leave as quickly as they came.

 

It happens so fast that one second Amelia is looking at them, and the next they’re gone. Did she imagine them? No, because she’s alive. Deedee’s safe. But how?

 

Not because of her. She _failed_.

 

She’s in shock.

 

Amelia shakes her head, blinking a few times. Pain starts to set in. Her neck and throat are raw and battered in a way she’s never felt before, each breath raking fire across every single nerve ending she has. But it’s nothing compared to the fright coming off the little girl in her arms.

 

“Shh,” Amelia whispers. She looks around. The mayor is still dead. The man who held a gun to her head is still knocked out cold. The chain whip Tempest used to hang the other man out the window is still tied around the sconce, and she thinks she hears him shouting. Her breathing increases, coming too quickly, but there isn’t enough room in her throat and it makes her dizzy.

 

She has to get out of here.

 

Amelia manages to stand. It’s only then that she realizes she’s missing a heel. She doesn’t even remember that happening. Glass and wood shards bite into her foot and she whimpers, limping through it to get around the conference table. Still holding Deedee, she wipes her foot on a piece of clean carpet, kicks her other shoe off, and staggers into the hallway.

 

She wanders until Maggie finds them.

 

Hysterical sobs alert her to her best friend’s presence. When Amelia sees her, unharmed and relatively okay, she almost breaks down again, too.

 

The next couple of minutes are a blur.

 

She’s aware of Maggie taking Deedee. Somewhere in the background, the little girl’s voice rings out between panicked sobs. _“I still got your Mama Mark for you, Mama. I still have it.”_ Maggie barely breathes through her cries as she kisses the toddler’s cheek again and again while Amelia stands shellshocked. She feels Maggie cup her face with a shaking hand, making the most heartbreaking noises when she sees the damage done to her neck. Amelia sees her lips moving, knows she’s talking, but it’s lost in the white noise filling her ears.

 

It’s only when Maggie kisses Amelia’s cheek, probably leaving a smear of lipstick on her as well, that reality hits her fully.

 

With a ragged sob, Amelia slumps against her best friend. Maggie holds both her and Deedee as they fall against the closest wall. They don’t move until heavy boots hitting the floor alert them to emergency services finally arriving.

 

“Over here!” Maggie shouts. “She needs help! Over here!”

 

She barely reacts until she catches a glimpse of a firefighter’s pants.

 

 _Will_.

 

The jolt that shoots through her has her sitting up, hope springing in her heart. But when she scans the faces of the men coming towards them, she doesn’t recognize any of them.

 

Amelia deflates.

 

“You have to help her,” Maggie demands, terror fueling her voice. “She’s my best friend. She saved my baby.”

 

“Not me,” Amelia croaks. She shakes her head. “Couldn’t. I couldn’t-”

 

“Don’t try to talk,” an EMT advises.

 

“You did, too,” Maggie insists, sobbing and gripping her hand. Amelia looks down and for the first time since it happened, she notices the blood staining her fingers. It’s not hers, she thinks absently. She did that, but it wasn’t enough. The need to explain that to Maggie overwhelms her, but her energy is fading faster than her voice. “Look at you. Look what you went through for her, to keep her safe. God, Amelia… I just…”

 

“ _Not me_ ,” Amelia mouths. “ _Couldn’t_ …”

 

“But you _did_ ,” Maggie says. “She’d have been helpless without you.”

 

Amelia had been helpless, too. She’d done nothing but buy them seconds, a minute at most. She hadn’t been fast enough to save Laurel. She barely got out alive herself. If it hadn’t been for The Arrow and Tempest, she would be dead. A bullet to the brain, and maybe the same fate for Deedee. If they hadn’t shown up, she wouldn’t be here with Maggie right now, and Deedee…

 

She’d been so _helpless_.

 

 _Powerless_.

 

It’s the only thought in her head for the two days she’s in the hospital. It lingers in every raspy conversation she has with the SCPD about what happened. She goes over the details again and again, each passing second more grating than the last as she describes the mayor’s death and what the men said to her. It’s all just a reminder of how useless she’d been. There was so much she could have done, if she’d just acted. If she’d just known _how_ to act. But she hadn’t. And now the mayor is dead and Amelia had almost met the same fate.

 

 _Never again. Never. Never again_.

 

A single-minded purpose takes over when she’s released from the hospital.

 

She knows she spends time with Maggie, with Deedee, that her mother flies in at some point to be with her and spends an inordinate amount of time fretting before Amelia gets her to leave. She knows that she talks to people at work, that there are things she needs to be doing, especially in honor of the late mayor.

 

But all of it passes in a blur.

 

The only thing that’s crystal clear in her mind is what happened back in that conference room. The fear. The terror. The helpless certainty that she was going to die. _Knowing_ that he was going to pull the trigger, that he would take her life without a second’s remorse, and that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

 

And then The Arrow and Tempest appeared, stopping him, saving her. So easily, so quickly.

 

Nightmares plague her nightly, but every time she wakes up in sweat-stained sheets with fiery gasps tearing through her mottled throat, she gets up and gets back to work.

 

Gets back to searching.

 

She knows what she needs to do, knows what she _has_ to do. Purpose drives her every move, a sense of destiny flooding her veins, pushing her forward, keeping her moving, looking, narrowing it down until…

 

Until she finds herself in a parking garage downtown, at a false wall in the concrete that leads to a tunnel wide enough for a car to fit, to staring at an unmarked door with only a thin black rectangle that blinks to life when she steps in front of it, attempting to read her identity. When it fails, when the green light turns to red, she doesn’t leave.

 

Instead Amelia does exactly what she came here to do.

 

She knocks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, guys!

“There’s a whole lot of nothing here, Brother,” a voice crackles over the comm unit.

 

Will sighs.

 

Laurel Lance’s murder kicked everyone into high gear, even as it sent the city into a tailspin. There’s been no shortage of work to be done by Team Arrow, including chasing down every clue they can find that might lead them to Domino. But the last week and a half has given them nothing except one dead-end after another, their efforts crashing and burning left and right.

 

He’s tired and frustrated, and he knows that’s nothing compared to his vigilante family.

 

Will doesn’t bother hiding his groan as he slumps back in Overwatch’s chair. But, it’s cut off when the move tugs on the thready scar across his lower gut where a crossbow bolt had torn into him a year ago. Grimacing, Will stops breathing and twists his eyes shut. God, sometimes he wonders if it’s ever going to not hurt again. The pain is just another reminder of why he’s here. He wanted to help when he found out about Laurel’s death, especially when he heard who was behind it. But that’s not the only reason he’s spending most of his nights hunkered down in the lair, doing the one thing he never really wanted to be part of. The family business has never been his thing.

 

But it’s better than sitting alone at home, fingers itching for the whisky bottle that’s never far from reach.

 

“I think they _were_ here,” Ellie says, breaking through his thoughts. “But it’s been a while since they cleared out.”

 

“Damn,” Will says.

 

“Yeah,” Jules agrees over the comm. His other sister isn’t done. “Damn, goddamn... Goddamn it. What a bunch of bullshit.”

 

“Well, if there’s no immediate danger...” Will starts.

 

“Not unless you count rats the size of my tires,” Jules mumbles.

 

“Then do a sweep,” Will continues, talking over her, even though he cracks a small smile. “See if you can find anything that might help us track them down or give us an idea of a bigger plan than just, you know, destroying the city.”

 

A green blur catches Will’s eye and he glances over to find his father suited up, bow in hand and his mask around his neck, waiting to be put on. An emergency meeting had kept him from joining Tempest and Dart in the field. He’d been about to head out now, but if there’s nothing to be found, it’s pointless.

 

Oliver Queen sidles up next to his son. “ _Anything_ ,” his father mutters, tension evident in the lines of his face. “The damn city’s at a tipping point and I don’t know how much longer we can keep it from toppling.”

 

The strain of the past week and a half is evident in the weighted sigh he gives and the way his eyes slip shut for a split second. For decades he’s protected the city, kept it safe as much as he can, both in his Arrow suit and his business suit. He’s sacrificed more than any one person should have to give. Watching it slowly crumble before his eyes because of a shadowy figure he can’t even identify, much less find, is hitting hard.

 

“Give the city a little credit,” Will says, switching off the mic of his comm unit. “It’s gotten through worse. Starling’s resilient. Always has been.”

 

“Doesn’t mean it should have to be,” his father allows with a small, sad smile. “Not against something like this.”

 

Will leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Domino isn’t going to win. Do you know how I know?”

 

His father’s smile warms as he looks down at his son. “How?”

 

“Because people like him only win when people like you give up,” Will replies. “People like Jules, like Ellie, and you won’t give up. I know that because that’s who you are, Dad. It’s who you’ve always been, and it’s who you’ve taught us to be.”

 

A soft huff of laughter falls from his father’s lips and he shakes his head. Switching his bow to his other hand, he grips Will’s shoulder in a tight squeeze. “Sometimes it’s amazing how much you remind me of Felicity, you know that?”

 

Will grins. His stepmother has long been one of his favorite people. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

 

“It was meant to be one,” his father assures him. He heads to the far wall to hang his bow up.

 

“She’s still better in this chair than I am,” Will points out to Oliver’s retreating back. “My computer skills are nowhere close to Overwatch. I can keep an eye on surveillance cameras and guide the team, but I’m not hacking anything or overwriting security protocols or whatever else she does.”

 

“You didn’t need to, did you?” his father asks, giving Will a patient look. “No one’s asking you to be Overwatch, William. You’re Brother, when you choose to be here. And that’s helpful, too. The only person you’ve got to be on this team or anywhere else is yourself.”

 

A brittle smile crosses Will’s face, and he turns back to the monitor before his father can pick up on how fragile it is.

 

Right. Because being himself has gotten him so far already. He almost chokes on the laugh stuck in his throat. He can barely be alone anymore without his skin closing in around him in a suffocating blanket, the walls inching closer, shoving him further into nightmares that only get worse with time. Nobody needs to know that his fingers shake when he’s playing at filling in for Overwatch, that his throat is so damned dry he could scream for something to drink, that he isn’t sure what he’ll do the next time someone gets shot in the field.

 

Last time, he dissolved into a flashback so real he could’ve sworn he was back on that museum floor. He’d felt the searing pain of the crossbow bolt lodged in his midsection like a fresh wound, felt the chill of his life fading away all over again. And the blood... There’d been so much blood pooling beneath him. There was no way all of that was his, right? No… _no_ … But then just as quickly as it’d set in, he’d blinked and he was back in the lair, someone else’s screams in his ear as he watched the blood surrounding Sara on the monitors instead.

 

What would Oliver think of his son if he knew all of that?

 

Will doesn’t stop the laugh that bubbles up this time. He was useless when Sara’d been shot. Worse than useless, even. He’d been a distraction. And his help had amounted to nothing.

 

_Nothing._

 

Maybe that’s why he’s here now. Maybe the more he helps, the more it’ll make up for the one time when he couldn’t, when he let his demons win, when he wasn’t strong enough and someone else had to pay the price for it.

 

At the very least it’s a distraction from the darkness that claws at him from the inside out.

 

Will takes a slow breath, settling back into that thought. If he’s here, he’s with family. He’s too busy to spiral, to dissolve into the darkness. And if he grabs a nap on a cot, that’s even better. He doesn’t sleep as deep here, doesn’t dream as vividly, because someone else is always there.

 

It’s easier.

 

Better.

 

Will refocuses on the monitors. He clicks his comm back on, swallowing to clear the lump in his throat before he asks, “Finding anything?”

 

“Not a damned thing,” Jules grumbles. Tempest appears onscreen and kicks an empty trashcan over, her chain whip bouncing against her thigh. “This is a waste of time.”

 

“It’s not a waste if we ruled something out,” Will reminds her. “If you aren’t finding anything, why don’t you guys come home and we’ll regroup? We can go over the map again. Arsenal is following up with some old contacts and Spartan, Harbinger and Cynisca should be in before nightfall. We can-”

 

A soft rap sounds, killing the rest of the words on his lips as his head whips towards the noise.

 

Someone is knocking on the door, the very secret entrance door that requires an eye scan to open, the one that nobody who knows about the door should be knocking on.

 

Will’s eyes dart to his father who’s gone very still. He stares at the door, too, his brow furrowed. One second, the man at his side was his father. The next, he is every bit The Arrow, his jaw squaring off and his hands curling into light fists. His senses come alive in a way that Will probably will never experience in his life. It’s jarring.

 

Another knock, this one more tentative.

 

“What the hell?” Will asks, eyes flying back to the door.

 

Oliver stalks back to Overwatch’s desk and, without a word, leans over him to change the monitor view to the lair’s entry. Will does a double take when he sees the back of a woman’s head. She bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly nervous, and something pulls deep in his chest. He shakes his head, because that’s insane, and…

 

“Why don’t we have a camera on the actual door?” he asks.

 

“We shouldn’t need one,” his father replies absently, frowning at the woman.

 

“What’s going on?” Ellie asks over the comms.

 

“Someone’s at the door,” Will says, feeling stupid as the words come out. “They’re knocking.”

 

“Excuse me?” Jules snaps.

 

“Damn it,” Oliver breathes, standing up and turning to the door. “She didn’t.”

 

“What?” Will asks, speaking at the same time as Jules. His sister’s already breathless as she starts running. “We’re on our way. We can be there in twelve minutes. Don’t do anything. Dart and I will contain them and we’ll go from there.”

 

“Maybe they’ll give up and go away if nobody answers,” Ellie pitches in-between pants.

 

“No, I know who it is,” Oliver interjects. Startled questions come from both his sisters through the comm as Will damn near yanks his own head off his shoulders, whipping his head to look at his father. He can’t read the look on the older man’s face, and it’s almost like Oliver doesn’t know what to think as he glances at his son. “And she’s not the sort to give up.”

 

“Who is it?” he demands. “Dad.” The only response he gets is Oliver’s lips tightening like he’s biting the tip of his tongue. “Okay, fine. So what are we going to do?”

 

Jules and Ellie have both stopped running, both of them listening, waiting.

 

The wait is interminable before Oliver simply says, “We answer the door.”

 

Will’s jaw drops, but before he can say or do anything, he’s watching his father cross the room.

 

“Stop! You don’t have your mask on!” he blurts, surging to his feet.

 

“Will, what’s going on?” he hears over the comm, but Will ignores it.

 

“She found us,” Oliver reminds him dryly, reaching for the handprint recognition system to open the door. “I’m pretty sure she can find out who we are just as easily. Assuming she doesn’t already know.”

 

Will’s thoughts spin too fast to make sense of what’s happening right now, much less to comprehend that his father is talking about this person as if he was expecting her to drop by, as if this happens all the time. Or ever. And Oliver doesn’t give him the chance to fully form a thought, anyway, because a second later his hand is on the pad. And, with a soft beep, the door slides open.

 

“ _Oh_. I… Oh my God, _Oliver_? I…”

 

The floor falls out from under him.

 

 _Amelia_.

 

The stunned look on her face screams loud and clear that she had no idea who she would find down here, if anyone. She blanches, staring at his father, hair rumpled from running her hands through it too much, dark bags under her eyes speaking to how little sleep she’s been getting, her cheekbones more stark than he remembers them. And he _does_ remember. He remembers everything about her.

 

He tries to breathe, to think, but the only thing that registers is his pounding heart and the rush of deafening white noise roaring in his ears.

 

Will doesn’t remember moving, isn’t even aware he’s doing it. He lurches forward, running right into the desk, hard enough to shove it an inch, sending a loud, wrenching squeak through the lair.

 

Amelia’s eyes shoot past his father and find him.

 

Everything stops. _Everything_. He can’t do a single damn thing. Can’t breathe or blink or move. And she’s just as frozen in place, staring at him as if she’s seeing a ghost.

 

She might as well be.

 

If he thinks she looks rough, he knows he looks worse, and it doesn’t help that they haven’t been this close in years. _Years_. God, he never thought he’d see her again. He told himself he didn’t want to, that he was done. It’d been a lie. He’d wanted to, almost answering her calls, listening to her goddamn voicemails over and over until he couldn’t stand it. He’d wanted to see her every day, with every breath and every aching beat of his heart. And now, here she was.

 

The very last place he ever thought she’d be.

 

“Will?” she whispers, her face cracking.

 

His name in her voice used to make his pulse quicken, his palms clammy. That used to be the beginning thread of real joy. Now, it’s a knife in his chest. Will blinks hard, stepping backward, forcing himself to look away.

 

But he can’t not look at her. She’s a magnet - _the center of gravity, of his world_ \- and his eyes fly back to her of their own volition.

 

She hasn’t moved. Her eyes haven’t left him. The knife twists as they stare at each other.

 

“Amelia,” his father finally says, making her jump. Her gaze flies back to him, to Oliver Queen, to The Arrow, and all she can do is blink. He steps back, gesturing into the room. “Come in.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Amelia’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Oliver is patient, waiting, and she finally takes a step into the room. Her eyes dart around, taking everything in, but it’s almost like she isn’t really seeing any of it. She’s that overwhelmed. And so is he. Because Amelia’s here. She’s _here_.

 

The door slides shut with a distinct thud that has her jumping again, spinning around to face it.

 

“How did you find us?” Oliver asks.

 

“What?” Amelia asks, looking at him. “Oh, um… I-I made a map. I traced all the sightings of you and… and your team…” Her eyes dart to Will before looking away just as quickly. “Uh, you know, all the times you were spotted in transit. Social media and surveillance cameras and news media. I’m kind of good at that stuff. I had to be with what I used to do. I tried a few other places around here, but they were abandoned. And this place… It was right in the middle.”

 

Oliver is nonplussed. Secrecy is vital to what they do, and there have been times they’ve gone out of their way to throw people off, counting on people across the city to post sightings of them on social media. Apparently it wasn’t enough. Not for Amelia.

 

“What are you doing here, Amelia?” his father asks. His voice is low, bordering on dangerous, and Amelia blanches.

 

Swallowing hard, Will bows his head, and takes another step back, silently begging his dad, _Grill her_ . _Make her talk. Make her explain. Keep her back. Away from me._

 

He has to get out of here.

 

The world is too damned cruel to let him escape unscathed, though.

 

“Will.”

 

He jerks like he’s been electrocuted, eyes flying back to hers. God, her _voice_. A shiver scrapes down his spine and it only grows in intensity when Amelia takes a step towards him with a quiet, “Wait, please, don’t…” He must flinch because she stops, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes drop to her mouth before he can stop himself, and his own lip burns.

 

Will bites his tongue until he tastes copper.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” she admits. An awkward laugh falls out of her as she waves at their surroundings. Her eyes land on a series of glass cases, some of the mannequins in suits, others empty, before she sees the wall of weapons. “Not like this.”

 

“I didn’t expect to see you again at all, Amelia,” Will bites out. The words are thick and gritty even to his own ears and he exhales sharply, clenching his jaw. He ignores the way his father winces. He has nothing to do with this. This is Will’s pain. So much of it stems from the woman standing before him, and he’s damn well entitled to it.

 

Amelia’s mouth moves without sound again. Her hands flutter before her, clenching into fists before flattening them against her thighs. When that isn’t enough she wraps her arms around herself only to let them fall to her side a second later.

 

He almost feels bad for her. Almost. Anger is easier, though, and he gladly falls into it.

 

“Will-”

 

“Why are you here?” Will demands.

 

Amelia’s mouth snaps shut, her eyes fathomless as she stares at him.

 

“Tone aside, it’s a valid question,” Oliver says, yanking her attention to him. His tone isn’t much better. “Why did you track us down?”

 

“You saved me,” she whispers before her voice grow stronger. “You saved me at City Hall that day. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you.”

 

Every one of Will’s muscles seize up. “What?”

 

His father ignores him. “So you’re here to say thank you again?”

 

“No.” Amelia shakes her head hard, her hair moving with her. “I’m here because I don’t want you to have to save me. I don’t…” Her hand flashes up to her neck, her fingers grazing the soft flesh there. Yellow-green marks mar her skin beneath her fingertips. Her voice is uneven as she says, “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

 

If she hadn’t moved, he isn’t sure how long it would have taken him to notice the fading bruises at her throat.

 

Any anger he has at her immediately shifts to whoever the hell dared hurt her.

 

Will’s moving before he knows what he’s doing, crossing the room in the space of a second. She jumps again. Some part of his brain recognizes that it isn’t just her storming into a vigilante headquarters that has her so spooked, but he isn’t thinking right now. All he sees are marks where there shouldn’t be marks, marks that - when he gets closer - he can see are in the shape of very large hands that had been wrapped around her throat.

 

He doesn’t think twice - one hand cups her cheek, the other gently shoves her hand out of the way and replaces her fingers with his, his touch ghosting across her discolored skin.

 

“Who hurt you?” he growls, looking her straight in the eye. “Who did this?”

 

“I was with…” Amelia sways slightly, her eyes growing glassy. “I was with the mayor when… when…”

 

Of course she was at City Hall. Frustration lashes through him. He didn’t know. He didn’t _want_ to know. _Damn it._ For a split second he doesn’t know if he’s angrier that nobody told him or that he didn’t want to be told in the first place.

 

“They cornered her,” she continues, her voice shaking. A tear slips down her cheek and he wipes it away, but it’s quickly followed by another, her words tumbling out faster and faster. “They taunted her and then they… I couldn’t do anything, I just stood there as they shoved a knife in her stomach. They killed her, and there was… God, there was so much blood. She just laid there in her own blood and I couldn’t do anything. And then they turned on me. I fought them. I swear I did. I tried… I _tried_ , but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to beat them. The mayor’s dead because of me. Maggie’s baby girl is going to have nightmares for years because I locked her in a closet to keep her safe while he strangled me and put a gun to my head. And I almost died because I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even get his hand off my throat, I could barely kick him. I wasn’t… I couldn’t do anything. I don’t… I can’t be like that again, Will. I _can’t_ . I can’t be helpless. I can’t be _useless_. I can’t. I won’t.”

 

It’s natural as breathing when he slips his hand around her neck, away from the bruising to rub gentle circles against her spine.  She exhales, her eyes fluttering shut, some of the tension leaving her body along with the breath. She clutches at his sleeve and leans into him, tilting her head, her hair brushing his cheek.

 

Despite himself, he lets her lean on him, bears her weight, even as logic whispers, _“Stop. This won’t end well.”_

 

Will curses under his breath.

 

This is why he refused her calls after he got shot. This is why he told his family he didn’t want to talk about her. He’s powerless against her. He always has been. If she’s in pain, he will always be there, no matter what. But the problem is that it’s always just been pain with her. Loving her _hurts_. And he’s so tired of hurting.

 

And yet, even knowing she’ll never be with him, he still puts her first.

 

He always will.

 

“You’re okay,” Will whispers, slipping his fingers up the back of her neck, into her hair where he continues to rub soothing circles. “We’re going to find Domino, and we’re going to make sure he never does this to anyone else. I promise.”

 

Amelia pulls back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. They’re so close he feels the soft puff of her breath as she says, “Yes. _We_ will.”

 

He freezes, his fingers stilling as his heart stutters to a dangerous stop. She can’t possibly be saying what he thinks she is.

 

A low grumble reminds him that they aren’t alone.

 

“You don’t want to be in that position again?” Oliver asks. Will’s eyes don’t leave Amelia as he steps back, his hands falling away. She watches him, a sadness he can’t understand filling her eyes. “Good,” his father continues and she finally looks back at him. “I don’t want you in that position again either. But I’m not in the business of self-defense classes. Try the YMCA. Or Will, for that matter.”

 

Will’s head snaps to his father only to find his dad raising his eyebrows at him.

 

He lets out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah. I’m sure her husband would love that.”

 

“My… What?” Amelia moves to grab his wrist, but he dodges her. “Will, wait… I’m not… No one told you? I broke off the engagement right after the car accident. I didn’t marry him. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.”

 

“What?”

 

His head spins. None of this makes any sense. No, it can’t be true. As far as he’d known, she’d been happily married to that dickhead Senator Thad DeWolf the Third, living their lives as a Central City political power couple. It’s everything she’s always wanted. She’d told him as much more than once. And he knows Thad has always done everything conceivable to engineer that exact future for them.

 

“You didn’t want to know,” his father says softly.

 

“I didn’t want to know about her _wedding_ ,” Will retorts, shooting his father a dark glare. “Not about her breaking it off or about her almost _dying_. God, Dad, she’s got bruises in the shape of a man’s hand around her throat from ten days ago! I should’ve at least known about that!”

 

“Like she should’ve known when you got shot?” Oliver fires back. Will goes very still, the scar burning under his shirt as his glare sharpens. But his father is unfazed. “Come on, Will, someone clearly told her. My money’s on Nate. But even with her calling you over and over, you didn’t answer. You made it very clear on more than one occasion exactly how you felt.”

 

The words are spoken quietly, but their impact radiates throughout the entire room.

 

Will bites his tongue to keep from snapping, because his father’s right. He had done that, but his reasons then were just as valid as they are now. Nothing has changed. Just because she’s not with Thad doesn’t mean she’s running to _him_. In fact, she’s done everything but that, hasn’t she? She hadn’t known he’d be here tonight, that he was involved in this life at all. She didn’t come here looking for him; she came looking for The Arrow.

 

It’s almost laughable.

 

Will looks at Amelia to find her eyes already on him. “I am glad,” he finally says, giving her a tight smile. “For you. You deserved better than him. I’m glad you saw that.”

 

“Me too,” she agrees. Her fingers twitch and she shoves her hands into her pockets. “I just wish I’d seen it sooner. That’s all.”

 

His heart lurches and he gives himself a second to wonder what could have been if she had known it earlier, if she’d known it all the times he gave them a chance, all the times he asked _her_ for a chance. But that didn’t happen, and he isn’t sure his heart can take another break. In fact, he knows it can’t. He might not be able to help how he feels about her, but there is one thing he can control.

 

Giving her a tight smile, Will steps back. Her face falters, but he doesn’t stop. They’ve said all they have to say.

 

His father doesn’t agree.

 

“Will,” Oliver says. “Why don’t you two head out before your sisters get back? Grab some coffee and talk. Maybe figure out some self-defense training while you’re at it.”

 

“No, I don’t-” Will says just as Amelia protests, “Oh. No,” before taking a step towards Oliver.

 

The smile that crosses Will’s face could cut glass.

 

“He can train you, Amelia,” Oliver says. “I should know. I taught him.”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” she replies. “But I don’t just want to defend myself. That’s not why I came here. That’s not why I spent all this time looking for you. For The Arrow. I need to do _more_.”

 

Will’s stomach bottoms out, just like before. What is she asking?

 

“Amelia…” Oliver stares at her for a beat, a mixture of resignation and pity tugging at his face. “You’ve been through a lot. Adjusting is hard. I get that better than anyone. But what you need to do right now is heal, learn a little bit about how to defend yourself, and go back to making a difference from your office. Trust me, that’s for the best.”

 

“No!” Amelia snaps. “I _can’t_ . No one is making a difference anywhere except for you. I can’t even get a damned hospital built without someone blocking me at every turn. The mayor died in front of me. I thought I was going to be murdered in front of my three-year-old goddaughter. And what if they went for her next, just because they could? How exactly am I supposed to go back to my office and sit there dealing with paperwork and dirty politics after _that_? This city is breaking apart at the seams. You need people to help you keep it together, and I need to be one of them.”

 

“Amelia-”

 

“That is not fucking happening.” Will’s voice rattles through the room as he closes the distance between them again. “There’s no fucking way that’s happening.”

 

She wheels around to face him and the fire lighting up her eyes makes him pause. “You don’t get to decide what I do, Will. Nobody does but _me_. Got it? Not ever again. And you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve thinking otherwise.”

 

Will puts his hands up. “I’m not trying to tell you want to do, I’m just…” He makes slow fists, gritting his teeth. “Trying to tell you what not to do.”

 

Amelia glares at him. “You don’t think I can do it.”

 

“I know you can’t,” he replies without hesitation. The disbelieving look she gives him only fuels him. “I know that because we won’t let you.”

 

The betrayal that paints her face is almost as bad as if she’d punched him, which he knows she wants to do. She clenches her jaw, her hands curling into tight fists, her nostrils flaring, but she doesn’t move. Because she doesn’t know how to punch, and she knows as well as he does that he’d stop her before she could even move. It pisses her off even more. Will can see that, but he doesn’t care. He’s already lost her in every conceivable way. He can’t lose her to this, too.

 

He won’t.

 

“It’s a bad idea,” Oliver adds. The sympathy underlying the words shifts the tension in the room. “I get it. After what happened to you, you feel powerless.”

 

“I _am_ powerless,” Amelia snaps. “And I hate it.”

 

“But there are better ways to deal with trauma and a lack of control than becoming a vigilante,” Oliver continues as if she’d never spoken. “And you shouldn’t be making big life decisions like this as a reaction to something that happened to you.”

 

“Really?” Amelia crosses her arms. “Then how did you start? I know you didn’t just wake up one day and think, _‘Gosh, I should devote my life to protecting the city and putting arrows in people’._ ”

 

Oliver’s face tightens. “Amelia-”

 

“No, I know what I’m asking,” she interrupts. “I understand what it means. I’ve thought of nothing else for ten days straight. I’m not making this decision lightly. I want to help bring down Domino and set the city back on a path to where it’s _healing_ again. I know I can do that. I _know_ I can help. It’s what I’m supposed to do. I just _know_ it.”

 

Will’s stunned, his brain misfiring. “No,” he breathes. “No, you can’t possibly know.”

 

Amelia’s jaw tightens and she lifts it in defiance, but she doesn’t look at Will. It’s his father she’s appealing to, not him. It gives him the tiniest bit of relief, because he’s positive his dad won’t give in. But then movement catches the corner of his eye and he looks at his father to see him staring at Amelia with an unreadable look, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together. In thought. In contemplation.

 

 _No_.

 

Will swears he says it out loud, but neither Oliver nor Amelia react.

 

“You’ve already told me you don’t know how to fight,” Oliver points out. “I don’t have the time to train someone from scratch.”

 

“There’s a whole team,” Amelia replies, taking a stuttered step towards him in supplication. “I’ll work with whoever’s free. And just because I don’t know self-defense doesn’t mean I’m totally untrained. Those swords, I know how to use every single one of them. I went to school on a fencing scholarship.”

 

“If you think college fencing will help you, you really don’t have any idea what you’re getting into.”

 

Amelia’s nostrils flare again. “Maybe I’m better with a sword than you think.”

 

“That’s even worse,” Oliver tells her. “Proper stances are a great way to get yourself killed.”

 

“Then help me,” Amelia implores. “I’m willing to learn. I need to learn. Your mother engineered the path of my whole life for _years_ , Oliver. I want to take it back. I need to learn _how_ to take it back, and this is how I do that. I’m meant to be here. I know it. _Please_.”

 

Will watches his father stare at Amelia, that same look on his face, and then he sighs, scrubbing his face with both hands.

 

“No,” Will says, shaking his head. “You can’t honestly be considering this.”

 

“Look at her,” Oliver says. “Look in her eyes and tell me she’s gonna give up. Tell me she doesn’t need some way to take control of what happened to her. Because that’s what I see. I see the same look Jules had after Jackson died, the same one Sara did after your sisters were kidnapped. Who am I to tell her she can’t cope with it the same way they did?”

 

“The Arrow, that’s who! This is your team. You get to decide who’s on it!”

 

“You’re right,” his father replies, leveling him with a look Will really doesn’t like. “I do. I didn’t say I’m putting her on the team, Will. But I’d rather she was here with us instead of going out and doing something stupid and reckless on her own.”

 

Frustration ripples through him with such a vicious kick that his knuckles crack when he clenches his hands into fists. “If she get hurts, I’ll never forgive you.”

 

“This isn’t his choice,” Amelia says and Will closes his eyes. “It’s mine.”

 

“I won’t forgive you, either,” he bites out, wheeling around to face her. “I don’t understand, Amelia. Why… Why are you doing this? I’ve spent my whole life trying to avoid this. It’s dangerous, and we get hurt. People die. People I love _die_. And you… You’re running right for it like none of that matters.”

 

“It does matter,” Amelia replies. “But…” She shakes her head. “I’m tired of running from things that scare me, Will. Playing it safe has done nothing but cost me.”

 

“This will cost you, too,” he says. “More than you think it will.”

 

Her lower lip trembles. “Maybe it already has. I didn’t know you had any part in this. I wanted to find you, because I owed you one hell of an apology. But this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. I couldn’t have even imagined _this_.”

 

The final nail in the coffin, she means.

 

“Yeah,” Will whispers. “That makes two of us.”

 

Amelia’s brow crinkles and she bites her lip, looking away.

 

 _Good_.

 

He wants her to be uncomfortable. He wants her to not want to stay. This isn’t a life anyone should choose. While he understands why his family has followed this path, why his father started down it, why his sisters joined, it’s still outside the realm of fathomable for him. And for her. God, this was never supposed to be a choice for _her_.

 

And yet, here they are.

 

She rolls her lips together, biting her tongue, before looking back at him.

 

Will isn’t sure what he’s expecting to see. Part of him hopes there’s resignation, that she’ll realize the gravity of what she’s suggesting, that this isn’t for her. But then there’s a smaller part of him that hopes she’ll tell him to go fuck himself. It dances in the back of his mind, but he shoves it down. No, this is stupid, reckless, idiotic, and she’s going to get herself killed. And she expects him to stand by and just watch her?

 

The door to the lair slides open before he can get a read on her, though.

 

All three of them turn as one just as Will’s sisters barrel in. Ellie’s jaw drops when the scene before her registers, her eyes widening behind her mask, shock dominating everything. But Jules…

 

Jules yanks her mask down, her eyes narrowing into an ugly glare.

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, Alyse (@HackerGoddessF), is doing a really fun Ameliam social media AU over on twitter, where they're both camp counselors. It honestly makes me giddy. So, if you like Ameliam, I'd definitely check that out. 
> 
> But first... enjoy!

Amelia’s hands won’t stop shaking.

 

It’s one thing to walk blindly into an abandoned layer of a parking garage and not only find The Arrow’s lair, but also discover it’s Oliver Queen who spends his nights protecting the streets of Starling City in green leather. It’s a whole other thing to find Will seated at the computer, staring at her with a vivid mixture of anger and longing that cuts through her so steadily her heart bleeds. Despite the shock, she somehow manages to take those encounters in stride. Somewhat. At least enough to get her point across.

 

But it’s a different challenge entirely to find Julianna Queen staring her down with murderous intent in her eyes and a chain whip on her hip.

 

As if Jules ever needed a mask or a weapon to be terrifying.

 

“What is she doing here?” Jules demands, pointing in Amelia’s direction while fixing her glare on her father.

 

“How about you change before we have this chat?” Oliver replies, his eyes trained on her hand where it’s instinctively curled around her whip. “Amelia’s not a threat.”

 

Jules scoffs, looking Amelia up and down with so much disdain she can taste it. “The hell she’s not.”

 

Ellie steps closer and Amelia stiffens, ready for the same recrimination from her, but she’s nowhere near playing judge, jury and executioner like her sister. She’s silent as she appraises Amelia. And, when she catches her eye, Ellie offers her a small smile. Amelia latches onto it, taking some strength from a friendly face.

 

“The fact that she’s down here at all proves she’s a threat,” Jules continues, her eyes narrowing. “In more ways than one.”

 

Oliver rubs his forehead. “Jules…”

 

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Amelia says.

 

The way Jules stills sends a shiver down Amelia’s spine. When the brunette tilts her head, not blinking, Amelia gets a taste of what it must be like to face Tempest in the field as an enemy. It’s worlds away from the almost-compassionate vigilante who’d helped her back at City Hall, and it has Amelia mentally scrambling for solid ground.

 

“I’d like to see you try,” Jules challenges.

 

Amelia pales. “What?”

 

“Be nice,” Oliver says in a low voice.

 

Amelia catches movement from the corner of her eye and turns to see Will glaring at his sister, his hands still in tight fists. But this time, they’re shaking slightly. This isn’t what she wanted. This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

 

“Why?” Jules asks her father.

 

“Oh my God, Jules.” Ellie rolls her eyes, stepping around her sister. “Because it’s _nice_.” Jules shifts her anger to Ellie, but the blonde ignores her, walking over and shaking Amelia’s hand. It somehow simultaneously breaks the tension and ratchets it up. Regardless, Amelia returns the gesture, even if the smile she manages isn’t all that steady. “Good to see you in one piece,” Ellie tells hers. “You sorta scared the hell out of us during the attack on City Hall.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Amelia replies with a tiny, nervous laugh. It feels good, serving to break the tension stiffening her shoulders a bit more, and she takes a steadying breath. “It was… It was terrifying. Thank you for saving me.” She glances at Jules. “All of you.”

 

Jules doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re welcome. You can pay us back by getting the hell out of here and never speaking of this again.”

 

“Jules,” Oliver starts, but Amelia’s already talking.

 

“I can’t,” she says simply.

 

“Sure you can,” Jules replies, stepping aside with an over-the-top wave. “Door’s _right_ there.”

 

Amelia squares her shoulders. “I’m not leaving.”

 

Jules smirks. It’s off-putting enough that Amelia has to fight the urge to step back. If Ellie hadn’t been standing at her side, she might have. The amount of raw power coming off the other woman is overwhelming, and it only adds to the potency of the entire room. Somehow, knowing who’s behind the mask makes them all more intimidating. They were normal, every-day people a couple hours ago, but now they’re so much more.

 

It’s enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

 

“Look,” Jules says. “I get it.” Her tone is so patronizing that the hair on the back of Amelia’s neck stands up. “You’re back in town and you somehow managed to find out who we are… It’s an easy way to get close to Will without committing to him _yet again_.”

 

“Hey,” Will snaps. “That’s enough.”

 

The dark look that passes between them is terrifying, but it’s got nothing on the fire that whips through Amelia’s gut. This isn’t about her and Will - it was never about them - and this most _definitely_ isn’t Will’s fight.

 

“I had no idea what any of your identities were when I came down here,” Amelia says loudly. Her tone yanks Jules’ attention back to her, but this time Amelia meets it head on. “I’m not here for Will. I’m here because it’s where I need to be. It’s where I’m… I think it’s where I’m _meant_ to be.”

 

“Pretty sure you’re meant to be behind a desk,” Jules replies. “Isn’t that your thing?”

 

“I’m meant to make a difference. I know I am. And it’s become very clear that I can’t do that from behind a desk. Not anymore.”

 

Jules lifts an eyebrow. “So you’re gonna do what exactly? _Help_? Are you gonna write a press release for us about how much good we’re doing?”

 

“I want to learn from you.”

 

Silence follows. Amelia’s eyes drift from Jules, to Ellie, to Oliver, before finally landing on Will. She didn’t want to look at him, told herself not to, but her eyes find him without an ounce of prompting. His face is shuttered and it’s worse than the recrimination he’d thrown at her earlier. If he doesn’t like it, that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean he gets to take this choice away from her. Will’s only reaction is to grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw jumping, but that’s it.

 

It hurts more than she’s willing to admit, but she doesn’t cower in front of the feeling.

 

He doesn’t want to support her in this? Fine. She’ll support her own damn self.

 

Amelia looks back at Oliver, at Ellie, and then Jules.

 

“I want to learn from all of you. I want to join the team and help beat Domino.”

 

Oliver doesn’t react. Ellie just blinks. And Jules huffs out a dry puff of air.

 

“You’re a politician,” Jules reminds her. “Not a vigilante.”

 

“Your father’s proven pretty well that someone can be both,” Amelia replies.

 

“My father has thirty years of experience,” Jules says almost serenely, as she slowly closes the distance between her and Amelia. The midnight blue leather of her suit doesn’t make a sound. It’s eerie, seeing her move, but not hearing her. She’s being stalked, Amelia realizes, and she shudders despite herself, but she doesn’t look away. She won’t give Jules that satisfaction, not ever. Jules’ eyes darken with purpose. “What the hell do you have, Prescott?”

 

“Determination.”

 

Amusement joins the predatory look Jules gives her.

 

“Goddamned stubborn woman,” Will murmurs. “ _Stupid_.”

 

He’s fallen back next to the computers, his fist pressing his knuckles against the desk, but Amelia hears him as clear as if he’s standing right next to her. It’s the only thing that breaks through her stand-off with Jules. And, before she can stop herself, Amelia’s eyes snap to his. The second their gazes meet, he purses his lips, glaring at her. He’d do anything to stop this, to get her to change her mind. Even resorting to insulting her beneath his breath. It’s written in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. It’s so painfully evident in the fear filling his eyes.

 

That makes her falter.

 

He’s not just mad; he’s scared. Her fingers tingle with the urge to do something ridiculous like sweep across his forehead, to smooth those lines away before cupping his face and whispering, _‘It’ll be okay.’_ But that’s not them. Not anymore. Was it ever, really?

 

No. And that’s her fault.

 

“You’re right,” Amelia tells him. “I am stubborn. I’m stubborn as hell. And yeah, it might mean I’m being reckless or careless, or whatever you’re thinking about me right now, Will. But it also means I’ve learned the hard way that the things you want the most are the things you have to fight for.”

 

She’s not just talking about joining the team and everyone in the room knows it.

 

Will shakes his head, huffing in disbelief as he looks away.

 

“You know what?” Jules asks. Amelia starts, her head whipping back to the imposing woman standing before her. Anger radiates off her in tangible waves. “ _Fine_. You wanna learn from me? You want to join the team? Pick a weapon. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

Amelia’s stomach drops. “Uh…”

 

She looks around the room, skimming over Will’s tense face, over the slight tightening of Oliver’s brow, before landing on Ellie. She looks just as unsettled as Amelia feels. Amelia isn’t certain if the solidarity is a relief or if the worry is terrifying.

 

Terrifying feels more accurate, especially when Ellie says, “I don’t think that’s the best way to do this.”

 

“What did you have in mind?” Jules bites out, yanking her chain whip off and tossing it into the corner. She sets her hands on her hips as she glares at her sister. “Slapping water?”

 

“Jules-”

 

“The best thing she can do is get out of the damn way.” Jules points at Amelia. “She’s not a fighter. She’s not a Queen.”

 

“Neither was Alex,” Oliver chimes in. Jules sputters, her head whipping to her father, but the only thing he has to offer is quiet curiosity as he eyes Amelia. “Let’s see what she can do.”

 

“Great,” Jules says, giving Amelia a menacing smile. “Any excuse to hit her is just fine with me.”

 

The fire is back and Amelia snaps, “I get that you don’t like me, okay? And while I don’t blame you for it, I am not here because of Will.”

 

“Goody for you,” Jules replies. “But that doesn’t change that it’s still part of the problem, does it? You’re forever in and out of his life with nothing at all to offer. You have _nothing_ to give him, and it’s not fair. He has enough to deal with without adding you in the mix again. He doesn’t need you making things worse when you decide this is all too much and bail.”

 

The words hit her like a bodyblow, caving her chest in. Tears burn her eyes and she grits her teeth against them, glaring at the other woman. But the anger churning inside her isn’t directed at Jules; it’s at herself. And it hits harder than any physical blow Jules could ever land, because she’s _right_. And Amelia knows it.

 

It’s why she’s here, she reminds herself. It’s why she’s finally fighting back.

 

“That’s your trademark, isn’t it?” Jules taunts. “Run, run, run away.”

 

“Shut up, Jules,” Will growls. Somehow the anger in his voice cuts even deeper than hers. Amelia squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of it. How did this spiral out of control so fast? How is it that she’s losing everything she’d already lost all over again?

 

“You gonna tell me it’s not true?” Jules asks him. “You have fought so _hard_ to rebuild your life, Will. Again and again. Losing your mom, playing dad to Bethany, supporting all of us when Jackson died, finally confronting Grandma about her bullshit, and then getting _shot_ . And having to watch _her_ walk away? How many times was it again?”

 

“That’s enough!” Will roars. “Yes, I’ve been through a lot, but I really don’t fucking need to hear every single one of the worst moments of my life ticked off one-by-one right now, okay? Leave it alone.”

 

“When you pull your head out of your ass, I’ll leave it alone,” Jules retorts, pointing at Amelia again as an impressive string of curses fall from Will’s lips. “She has never done anything good for you.”

 

“And it’s none of your business,” Will bites back.

 

“It is if she’s down here!”

 

Amelia groans and covers her face. Damn it, things weren’t supposed to happen this way. She wasn’t supposed to see Will like _this_. She wasn’t supposed to make things worse. But she has. And this will be just another thing ticked off on his list of worst moments. Knowing that hurts more than she can say. She never meant to hurt him - she really didn’t - and the ire bouncing between Will and his sister stings like salt in the wound.

 

“She just walked into _our_ lives, Will, which makes all her shit our problem,” Jules continues. “And I’m not going to sit back and let her do it again-”

 

“I’m not leaving,” Amelia blurts. Her voice cracks, but she ignores it as she looks at Will. “I’m not walking away. Not anymore.”

 

He doesn’t believe her.

 

“It took me a while,” she says. “I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know who I was. But after what happened, it was like… I just knew. I need to make a difference. I need to help, and this is the way. I don’t deserve another chance,” Amelia tells Will. A slice of pain crosses his face before he shuts her out completely. “I know I don’t, Will. Not with you and me. And I’m not stupid enough to ask for it. But I didn’t come here to hurt you, I swear. I… _This_ …” She looks back at Oliver, Ellie, and finally Jules. “I need this for me. I deserve _this_ chance. I can do this. I’m not leaving, I don’t care what you say.”

 

“Yeah? We’ll see about that,” Jules replies.

 

“Oh, yes,” Amelia snaps back, that fire burning her gut as Jules’ eyebrow goes up. “We will.”

 

Before Jules can reply, Amelia spins and walks to the wall of weaponry behind her.

 

Fighting Jules is a terrible idea, doubly so considering she’s clearly looking for any opportunity she can find to hit Amelia square in the face. But giving up is worse, bowing out even more unbearable, and she’s _done_ sitting back and doing nothing. Jules wants a fight? Well, then that’s exactly what Amelia will give her.

 

The wall of weaponry is impressive, the entire length of concrete covered in various objects that she couldn’t identify if her life depended on it, much less use. But there is a specific stretch of weapons that she knows very, very well.

 

Amelia yanks two swords off the wall and throws one to Jules.

 

The other woman snags the weapon mid-air, twirling it deftly. “Boy, are you miscalculating.”

 

It’s more intimidating than Amelia is willing to admit and it doesn’t help that it’s been years since she’s fenced. But when her hand wraps around the sword hilt, her body comes to life. Her muscle memory might be a little rusty, but it’s still there, and she lets go, allowing it to take over.

 

Amelia instinctively settles into a defensive stance, eyes never leaving Jules.

 

“No,” she says. “I’m not.”

 

Jules doesn’t budge, taking in her form with lazy appraisal. The only indication she’s surprised that Amelia knows as much as she does is the slight twitch of her eyebrow. “Miscalculating _and_ arrogant. Now that’s just a bad combination.”

 

Amelia tries not to react, but she can’t hide her questioning frown.

 

“You gave me a weapon,” Jules hisses in response.

 

Will starts forward. “Jules, I swear to God-”

 

Before Amelia can so much as blink, Jules is moving and the clash of metal against metal drowns out Will’s voice. Somewhere in the background, Ellie lets out a startled yelp, jumping back as Jules attacks.

 

It’s all instinct and ingrained training that lets Amelia block the first few hits, but it’s more than enough to have a surge of adrenaline and triumph flooding her veins. Adjusting her guard, Amelia knows in her bones what Jules is going to do next and she’s already moving into position…

 

But she miscalculates, just like Jules said she would.

 

The next swing comes out of nowhere, moving too quickly for Amelia to react, and Jules slams the dull blade against Amelia’s flank. She gasps, pain erupting in the spot, knowing it’s definitely going to leave a bruise. Amelia scrambles out of range as Jules closes in on her with dark, unforgiving eyes.

 

“Don’t _hurt_ her, Jules,” Oliver orders.

 

The noncommittal noise Jules offers in response does nothing to reassure Amelia. Neither does the focused sense of purpose staring back at her. It’s enough to give her chills, to tell her she is in way over her head.

 

But it doesn’t stop her. She doesn’t let it.

 

Jules attacks again, and Amelia blocks her, barely, again, again… again. Each blow radiates through her arms, setting her teeth on edge as Jules puts every ounce of force she can behind each hit. Jules smacks her with the blade more times than Amelia can count, leaving stinging lashes over every inch of her body. When she manages to retaliate, Jules is unfazed, rolling with it as if she knew all along what Amelia was going to do.

 

It’s too much, but she can’t stop. She _won’t_. Not this time.

 

“Don’t drop your left shoulder,” Ellie offers and Amelia clings to the suggestion, immediately adjusting without a second thought. It’s barely in time to parry Jules’ next volley of blows, but she manages…

 

Right up until her legs get kicked out from under her.

 

Amelia slams into the ground hard enough that it knocks the air out of her lungs. She gasps, struggling to breathe, to _remember_ how to breathe, as her lungs spasm. But even that isn’t enough to steal away from the white hot pain rolling through the shoulder she landed on.

 

Struggling for air, she rolls onto her back.

 

The hilt of Jules’ sword is headed right for her face and Amelia barely scrambles out of the way.

 

“Julianna!” Will yells, but his voice is quickly lost in the shuffle.

 

Amelia stumbles to her feet, nearly falling right back down on her face. She somehow finds her balance. But it’s not enough, not by a long shot, especially when she flexes her hand and realizes her sword’s gone. She doesn’t even remember that happening. _No, no, no_. Panic blossoms as Tempest bears down on her, twirling her sword, the blade somehow looking longer and sharper than before as Jules readies to twist and swing it right at Amelia’s face.

 

“You want to wear a mask?” Jules demands, forcing Amelia back. “You think you’re ready for what it means?”

 

“No,” Amelia says through gritted teeth. Her back hits the weapons wall and fire blazes through her. “But I am ready to learn… If you don’t kill me before that!”

 

The blade of a small dagger catches her fingers and instinct once again takes over. Amelia shifts, wrapping her hand around the hilt just as Jules goes in for the kill. Amelia’s ready this time, as ready as she’ll ever be, and uses Tempest’s single-focused momentum to find a window of escape. She isn’t thinking, isn’t doing anything but acting - _surviving_ \- as she throws herself to the side, avoiding Jules’ attack completely. Amelia lands in an inelegant mess of limbs that do her no favors as she shoves herself back to her feet, scrambling back to where she dropped her sword.

 

Her heart races, blood pounding in her ears, her head throbbing, her limbs shaking. Her lungs burn for oxygen and flames of pain lick at where Jules has landed blows. None of that stops her from grabbing her weapon and spinning to Jules, dropping back into a guard position.

 

Sweat drips down her back, beads of it slipping down her temple and matting the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail to her forehead.

 

Amelia powers through it, gripping the sword and dagger tighter in her slickened fingers.

 

She can do this. She _will_ do this.

 

“Are you honestly trying to dual wield?” Jules asks with a laugh.

 

“You can’t hold a guard that long,” Ellie says. “Not in a real fight. You have to keep moving. Keep her on her toes.”

 

“Do you mind?” Jules snaps, glaring at her sister. “I’m trying to kick her ass here.”

 

The opening is so stark and abrupt that for a second Amelia almost doesn’t take it, isn’t sure if she’ll be able to get in there in time.

 

But her body is already moving of its own accord.

 

Amelia lunges. A strangled gasp and a hum of interest come from behind her, but as quickly as she registers them, they’re gone, time slowing down. She’s close, so close, the point of her sword aimed right for Jules’ side, right for where she got Amelia the first time. It won’t do much damage, mostly because of Tempest’s suit, but it will be enough to show everyone in the room that she isn’t a complete novice.

 

Jules whips around with lightning speed, her rapier instantly colliding with Amelia’s.

 

Amelia isn’t done, though. As if she knew what would happen, she uses the momentum and shifts all her energy to the dagger, aiming for Jules’ other side.

 

She’s fast, but nowhere near fast enough.

 

Jules grabs the blade before it can connect with her and twists, wrenching Amelia’s wrist, earning a short, startled cry. Without a single pause, Jules rams her sword against Amelia’s, once, twice, three times, punishing blows that leave Amelia’s arm numb before Jules elbows her in the face.

 

Pain rockets through her skull. The bones in her nose feel like kindling, her eyes watering, the strangest numb sensation spiraling out from the center of her face. She blinks, trying to keep herself aware, to keep her weapons, but it’s useless. Jules is faster, stronger, and more precise, using the opening exactly how it should be used. She twists the sword out of Amelia’s grasp, letting it clatter to the ground once more before twisting Amelia’s wrist even further, forcing her to release the dagger.

 

Someone shouts in the background.

 

Amelia struggles under Jules’ hold, her mind racing to find a way out of this, but there’s nothing she can do.

 

Especially when Jules shoves her back against the wall and wraps her hand around Amelia’s throat.

 

Panic surges through her, damn near blinding her with white-hot terror. She claws at Jules’ gloved hand, the sudden, desperate need to be free making her cry out. Something wet trickles down the back of her throat, making her cough, that same sticky liquid dripping from her nose. It’s drowning her. For a moment, she’s back at City Hall, two meaty hands wrapped around her throat, choking the life out of her…

 

But Jules isn’t doing that.

 

Her fingers hold fast against the bruises, but she isn’t squeezing.

 

Amelia gasps, realizing that she _can_ gasp, air rushing into her lungs, wide eyes fixed on Jules.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tempest hisses. “This is _my_ house.”

 

A large hand lands on Jules’ shoulder and yanks her away. Amelia sucks in a cool breath, her fingers covering where Jules’ had been seconds before, blinking rapidly just in time to see Will’s large frame bearing down on his sister.

 

“Will,” Jules manages, putting her hands up, but Will ignores them, shoving her anyway. The fury that twists Jules’ face is frightening in its intensity, especially when she pushes back against his shoulders hard enough that his feet stutter.

 

“Hey,” Oliver barks. “ _Back off_. Both of you.”

 

“She asked me to spar,” Jules says.

 

“Asked you?” Will retorts, shoving her again. As Amelia slumps back against the wall, it vaguely occurs to her that Will’s pushing Jules away from her.

 

To _protect_ her.

 

Her insides twist at that, part of her warming just as another part of her needs him to know she can handle herself just fine. And if not, the consequences are hers to bear. But the only sound that comes out of her throat when she opens her mouth is a choked gasp. Will advances on his sister as Jules squares her jaw, standing her ground. Will pushes her even harder. “I wouldn’t call that sparring, Jules, that was doing everything in your power to hurt her.”

 

“ _William_ ,” Oliver snaps, grabbing Will’s shoulder, but Will shrugs him off.

 

“And did she ask you to choke her, huh?” Will demands, his focus zeroed in on his sister to the exclusion of everyone else. “What’s next, are you going to grab an arrow and stick me in the gut the next time we fight?”

 

Jules freezes, all the color draining from her face. “It’s not like that,” she says, her voice quieter than it has been all night. “I would never do that. I was just making a point.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Will hisses, leaning in so they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “I don’t believe you for a single fucking second. You don’t like her. You’re being territorial. This was about making her hurt and making sure she doesn’t come back.”

 

Jules swallows hard, meeting his gaze in the stony silence that follows. “Better her than one of us,” she finally says.

 

He can only stare at her, the air filling with a tension Amelia can’t begin to understand.

 

When it becomes too much, she pushes off the wall. “I told you,” she says, wiping at her nose. Her fingers come back wet and with a start, she looks down at the blood coating her fingers. She’s bleeding. Amelia blinks before curling her hand into a fist and looking up. Jules watches her with a guarded expression. Will’s back is still to her, his head bowed, his fists tight at his sides. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“God,” Will groans, his shoulders sagging. He spins back to her and the anguish on his face steals her breath away. “You should. You should go and not come back. You should forget you were ever here. You deserve better than this.”

 

“No. Will…” Amelia shakes her head. “This is what I choose. I belong here. Everything in me knows that.”

 

“Amelia…”

 

His voice cracks, her name coming out in a whispered plea.

 

The room falls away as they stare at each other. More separates them than the dozen feet where he stands across the room. It’s an ocean, the past colliding with the present, jagged pieces sawing together in an effort to find a place to fit, but there isn’t one. Not anymore. Not for this. Not when he’s asking her not to do the one thing she _has_ to.

 

“Will,” she starts.

 

He moves before the rest of the words can fall out, crossing the room so abruptly she jumps. Amelia’s mouth goes dry as he closes the distance between them and her stomach drops, not knowing what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say. With each step the air thickens, closing in on her, making it harder to breathe until each inhale is a stutter, echoing the pounding of her heart. For a second she thinks he might do something completely stupid like throw her over his shoulder and walk her out. She braces herself for it, for _anything_ , but then he stops short…

 

Close enough she can feel his uneven exhale, smell his cologne, feel the heat emanating off of him. Before she can stop herself, Amelia breathes him in, her eyes slipping shut for a split second. Memories bombard her and her chest tightens, burning with the weight of them.

 

When she opens her eyes again, the sadness waiting for her in his is crippling.

 

For a very long moment, nothing happens. He doesn’t speak and she barely breathes, not until he lifts his hand to touch her face.

 

Amelia sinks into his touch, a shiver wracking her frame. Will brushes the sweaty hair off her brow in an unhurried, gentle stroke before slipping down to cup her chin, leaving a burning trail of awareness in his path. He opens his mouth to say something, but then his gaze drops to her mouth and he stops.

 

He slowly wipes away the blood from her lip with his thumb.

 

“Amelia,” he chokes out. “Don’t…” He leans into her, his forehead falling against hers. “Don’t do this.”

 

“I have to,” Amelia whispers against his finger. He grits his teeth and digs his thumb into her lip, just enough to hurt, shaking his head, but she isn’t swayed. She grabs his wrist, holding on to him just as tight. “I have to do this.”

 

“For me,” he tries, swallowing hard and pulling back to look her dead in the eye. “I am asking you, please. For me… Don’t do this.”

 

Tears blur her vision and she blinks rapidly, sending one cascading down her cheek. “Ask me anything but that,” she says, staring into his eyes, trying to make him understand, to make him see. “ _Anything_.” Amelia watches his face slowly shutter, his eyes dulling, growing faraway as he pulls back. She clutches his sleeve. “I can do this. I _have_ to do this. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

A humorless laugh falls out of him, the sound empty. “I’m sure you think that,” he says before stepping back, forcing her to let him go.

 

“Will…”

 

He shakes his head. “I can’t be here,” he announces, looking at everyone but her, at everything but her. “I have to… I’m gonna go for a walk.”

 

“Want Alex to meet you?” Jules asks softly. “He should be done at his mom’s.”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?” Ellie asks, trading glances with her sister that Amelia can’t quite decipher.

 

Will ignores her as he grabs his coat and shrugs it on. Ellie takes a step towards him, but one glance at the look on his face has her freezing in place. His eyes are dull, shadows twisting his features, making him look gaunt in a way Amelia’s never seen before as he looks at his father.

 

“Keep her alive,” Will tells him.

 

It’s not a request. It’s not even a plea.

 

Oliver’s face tightens, and it’s so obvious he wants to say more, but all he does is nod. It speaks more of understanding than any of kind of promise, but it’s enough.

 

Without another word, Will turns and leaves.

 

The door slams shut with a finality that nearly has a sob ripping out of her. _This is it_ , a voice whispers in the back of her mind. _The end._

 

He’s gone and she pushed him away.

 

 _Again_.

 

It’s just her, like before. Just her.

 

“You’re too weak.”

 

The biting animosity from earlier is gone from Jules’ voice, but it does nothing to steal away from the sting her words leave behind. Amelia looks at the other woman - at Tempest - standing tall and proud, her suit shimmering darkly in the harsh lights.

 

“It’s admirable, I guess,” Jules says, “that you want to do this. But you can’t. This life would kill more people than not. It _has_ killed more people than not, and Will knows that better than most. Everything else aside, you’re a smart woman, Amelia. I know that you know this life isn’t for everyone, including you.”

 

The silence that follows is deafening.

 

“You’re not strong enough.”

 

Amelia scoffs.

 

Jules jerks back and Oliver’s sharp glance slices into her. A few minutes ago that would’ve made her tremble, but not now. No, right now she’s tired, and angry, and sad, and she’s so _sick_ of people telling her what she can and can’t do. She thought she’d had nothing left to lose in coming here, thought she’d only had everything to gain. But she just had her ass handed to her, she can’t feel her hands, and her heart is so fragile she’s worried one wrong move will scatter pieces of it to the wind. And having to watch Will walk away…

 

She’s _done_.

 

“I might be weak now,” she says, wiping blood, sweat, and tears off her face. “But I’m not willing to stay that way. There’s a reason why I’m back in Starling, why I was at City Hall, and why I’m here now. This is providence, and I’m not walking away from it.

 

“Not for anything.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Five Months Later  
_ _February 2041_

 

The paint melts.

 

It spills over the artwork’s frame, rivers of black and red running down the stark white wall, pooling on the marble floor of the art museum. It’s so dark, so thick, and there’s so much of it…

 

_That’s not right._

 

Will frowns, stepping closer, reaching out to touch it.

 

But it’s not paint that coats his fingertips. It’s blood.

 

With a horrified gasp, he stumbles back, his insides recoiling as the blood flows more freely from the canvas. The pool at his feet grows, reaching for him, and he can feel it on his hands, between his fingers, so hot and sticky…

 

 _So much. It’s too much, too much_ …

 

But he can’t get away. Someone grabs his arm, holding fast, and he looks down to find a beautifully manicured hand on the sleeve of his suit, the fingers curled in sharp claws.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

A cold shiver slithers down his spine. He knows that voice. _No_. Will’s eyes trail up the bare arm of the person holding him, ice filling his veins, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He knows who it is before he sees her.

 

 _Amelia_.

 

She stands next to him, hair upswept and pulled back off her bare shoulders. A broad-necked white and gold gown drapes her body, emphasizing her long neck and the awestruck look on her face as she stares at the macabre display of gore before them.

 

“No,” he whispers, turning to her, touching her shoulder, cupping her face, trying to get her to look at him. But she won’t budge. “No, it’s not.”

 

Confusion crosses her face, her brow furrowing as she stares at the painting.

 

“It’s _not_ ,” Will insists, watching his hand as he smooths it over her cheek and down her neck.

 

“Yes, it is,” Amelia replies. Will shakes his head, looking up at her face again. She’s turned to look at him, but an intricate mask obscures her features. A strangled whimper escapes him as a trail of blood drips from her nose. “It’s exactly what it’s meant to be.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Will breathes, wiping at the blood on her lip. More drips out, so much more, drenching his fingers. Panic erupts inside him and he wipes it away faster, harder, but there’s always more. With a growl, Will rips the mask off her face, but he doesn’t find her. All he finds is another mask. “No…” He pulls that mask off, and then another, another. _Where is she?_ He can’t reach her, can’t find her. “No!”

 

“It’s okay,” Amelia promises, cupping his face. Her lips are wet with blood, and when she smiles at him, her teeth are stained with it. She strokes his cheeks, but he doesn’t feel it. He feels nothing. “I’m strong now. I’m not afraid anymore.”

 

But he is. He’s terrified.

 

“No, please,” Will pleads, pulling her into his arms. She gasps and he holds her closely, clinging to her. It’s too tight, but he doesn’t care. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his nose in her hair, breathing her in before pressing frantic kisses to her temple, whispering, “They can’t have you. Not you.”

 

“Will…” she chokes out, her hands falling to his shoulders, scrambling for purchase as her knees give out.

 

“Whoa, hey, no,” he says, catching her. He pulls back, her name on his lips when she screams. The sound rips him in two, her pain rattling through him. “No, no, no. What’s wrong? What’s…?”

 

Amelia’s face goes pale, her lips bloodless, her eyes slack. Her mask slips away, falling to the ground as more blood dribbles from her lips, her hand coming up to touch his face again, fingers wet with blood.

 

_Her blood._

 

Will jerks back, looking down in time to see the blossoming red across her midsection, spreading so rapidly he can’t keep up. It’s everywhere, a thin rivulet of it seeping from a gaping hole in her stomach…

 

A hole from the crossbow bolt sticking out of his gut, the one that never goes away, that will always be part of him, haunting him, hurting…

 

Hurting her.

 

God, _he_ did this to her.

 

Will’s eyes fly back to her face in time to see her bloody lips moving, forming his name as she cups his face with sticky fingers. Her blood is already drying on his cheek and he shakes his head, trying to hold her up, to keep her standing, but her legs give out completely.

 

They collapse to the floor in a heap.

 

“No,” Will whimpers, pulling her into his lap. He presses his hand to her midsection, but there’s too much damage. The blood can’t be stopped. There’s so much, pooling around them, blending with the blood from the painting. It’s hers, he realizes. It’s always been her blood. _She’s dying_ , and he’s the one killing her. A sob chokes out of him, shredding his throat. “Amelia? No, no, honey, come on. You’re okay. You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna… God, why… Why couldn’t you have stayed away? You should’ve stayed away.”

 

“I belong here. I belong with you.”

 

“It’s killing you!” Tears slip from his eyes, one splattering on her cheek, cascading down to mix with her blood. “ _I’m_ killing you, I’m… I did this. I did this. None of this should’ve touched you. Not _you_. No. _No_.” He shakes his head frantically. “They can’t have you.”

 

“They don’t,” Amelia whispers, her bloodied palm finding his cheek. “You do. This is all you, Will. It’s you. It’s always you, Will… Will… _Will_ …

 

“ _Will_.”

 

The museum disappears in a flash as Will’s eyes snap open. The world is dark, the white wall gone, the blood nowhere to be seen, and Amelia…

 

With a ragged gasp, he jerks up off the cot, scrambling backwards, still feeling her dying weight on his lap, her blood on his hands. Just as quickly as he realizes it was a dream - _a nightmare, it wasn’t real, none of it had been real_ \- he registers that he’s in the lair, that he’d fallen asleep, and that he isn’t alone.

 

He groans under his breath, collapsing slightly. His shirt clings to him with sweat, his breath coming in wild bids for air as his mind jumps around, from then to now, from there to here. Will grips the sheets with shaking hands, waiting for reality to start taking shape around him.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

It’s more instinct than anything that has him nodding. He doesn’t want to look at her, but he can’t help it. He needs to know she’s okay, that she’s whole, that he hasn’t destroyed her. His eyes dart to her, just long enough to dull the darker edges of his imagination, before looking away.

 

“Yeah,” he croaks. He swallows hard around the hoarse lump in his throat. Is that from sleep, or had he been crying out during his dream? His gut clenches. He hopes it’s the former. There’s very little he wants less than Amelia knowing the haunting scenes that live in his head. Will sits up further, swinging his feet off the cot. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

Amelia shifts against the door jamb, her bare feet scraping over the cold floor.

 

Despite himself, he looks. The sight settles him. It’s not her face or her pity-filled eyes; it’s just her legs and her feet. It’s still her, but without the emotional weight. Her toenails are painted a soft yellow, a color so opposite the darkness in his head that he almost laughs. Her long legs are clad in the grey sweatpants she favors for sparring.

 

There’s no white dress. No blood.

 

So why can’t he get his hands to stop shaking?

 

“Did you need anything?”

 

Hesitation laces her words, and it cuts through him.

 

Will closes his eyes. It hurts to know that he’s done that to her. He can’t seem to stop hurting her, can he? Ignoring her hasn’t done them any good. Interacting with her hasn’t helped either. She wants a blessing he can’t give her, and it’s been a stopping point between them for months. There’s no way to cope with the all-encompassing terror that there are even more ways he can lose her now on top of the ones he already had. Will lets out a ragged sigh, scrubbing his face before pushing a hand into his hair. His tongue burns for something that isn’t there, his stomach clenching. But that’s part of why he’s here in the first place, isn’t it? He sees the bottle of amber liquid sitting next to his couch at home as if it’s sitting right here in front of him now.

 

“A glass of water, maybe?” she ventures. Will digs his fingers into his scalp. “Or… someone to talk to?”

 

“I’m fine,” Will says, doing his level best to keep from snapping. He finally looks up at her. The worry reflecting back at him is worse than a crossbow to the gut, mostly because in a sick way it feels good seeing it there. Having her concerned about him, caring for him… It’s something he craves, but it’s not his to have. “Just a dream. Nightmares happen, right?”

 

“They do,” Amelia replies, shifting her weight again. He watches her every move like a starved man and he hates it. _Go, go away_. “I have them, too, sometimes. Some nights I wake up and I… I think there’s a hand around my throat. I try to pull it away, but there’s nothing there. It takes a few seconds before I realize I can breathe just fine.”

 

Will grits his teeth, bowing his head.

 

Is that supposed to help? A raspy sound escapes his throat and he thinks it’s meant to be a laugh.

 

They don’t have these kinds of conversations anymore. They haven’t had them in years, not since the days when they chatted over Facetime, trying to be friends and ignoring the undercurrent of feelings between them. But these days? No, these days they dance around each other on eggshells, Will trying and failing to stay away while she stares at him with a longing for something he can’t give her.

 

Not when it means he’ll be part of why she’s dead someday.

 

His nightmare flashes before his eyes - _blood, Amelia’s gasps, his cries_ \- and he grimaces.

 

“Got any advice?” she asks. “For dealing with them, I mean.”

 

“You really think we’d be having this conversation if I did?”

 

Amelia stiffens. “No,” she says, rolling her lips together, giving him a resigned nod before looking away. “I guess not.”

 

_Damn it._

 

Will squeezes his hands into fists. They still shake. He doesn’t want to talk about nightmares with her. He doesn’t want to know that it’s something they have in common. He can’t stand knowing that she wakes up suffocating from her own mind, just as he sees the rest of it playing out - her dying, over and over again, because of him.

 

Amelia doesn’t leave, but the tension in the room thickens the air. She doesn’t look at him, and even though he tells himself to just get the hell out of there, he lets himself steal another glance. She’s so beautiful it hurts. Even more so than usual since she’s dressed down for sparring, her hair up in a high ponytail, her face makeup-free. Even with the distance between them, he wants her. He _needs_ her. His fingers ache to touch her, his lips burn to feel hers under his, to taste her, to hear her whisper his name, and see that beautiful warmth in her eyes when she looks at him like she used to. But she’s no longer that Amelia, is she? No, she’s more lean these days, more muscular, the lines of her body becoming harsher and more angled every single day. It doesn’t take away from her softness, though. There’s still something breathtakingly beautiful about her, something quiet and achingly sexy.

 

Which makes the fact that she’s shaping herself into a weapon right before his eyes an even more bitter pill to fucking swallow.

 

This was never supposed to be her life.

 

“Avoiding trauma,” Will says, his voice gritty. Amelia’s eyes fly back to his. He pushes off the cot and heads to the doorway where she lingers. “That’s how you keep your head from fixating on it. And it’s why you shouldn’t be here.”

 

He fully expects her to move when he reaches the doorway, but she doesn’t budge. Will digs his teeth into the tip of his tongue, staring her down. She’s not swayed, meeting his gaze head on.

 

“My nightmares aren’t because I joined the team, Will,” Amelia says. “I joined the team _because_ what happened to me was a nightmare.”

 

Will gives her an incredulous look before stepping closer with a harsh, “If you think being strangled and having a gun put to your head _once_ is the worst thing that will happen to you on this team, then you haven’t been paying attention, Amelia. Nightmares are your head being smart enough to tell you that you should be running away from it, not towards it.”

 

“What about you?” she challenges, stepping into his bubble. He should fall back, but he doesn’t want to. His nostrils flare at the hint of her conditioner. Amelia points at him for emphasis. “What does that say about your dreams?”

 

“Oh, my dreams definitely tell me to run,” Will replies. “That’s why I keep listening to them.”

 

She falters. A fissure opens up in her eyes as the full meaning of his words hit her: _run from her._

 

“Will…” she whispers.

 

He doesn’t want to hear it.

 

Shaking his head, Will moves to step past her, but her hand lands on his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His shirt is still damp with sweat, his skin still hot, but somehow her touch is hotter. It cuts right through him, right to the quick, and he inhales sharply, his eyes slamming shut. Her fingers curl into his shirt, her nails scraping his chest, and he lets out a ragged breath, looking up at her. She’s staring at her hand, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, looking so torn that for a second he almost gives in. Every inch of him wants to break, to fall into her arms, to push her back against the door frame and kiss her senseless. It’s the only thing he wants more than the burn of whisky down his throat, and just like the last five months, she’s right here. It’d be so easy…

 

_Come with me. Run away with me. Let’s get away from all this. I’ll do anything, anything you want._

 

“Will, I…” she says, more breathless, but still with a note of uncertainty as she meets his gaze.

 

It’s up to him.

 

But what he needs isn’t what she can give him, not right now. Maybe not ever.

 

Will grabs her wrist and pulls her hand away.

 

“Go train,” he tells her, dropping her hand as if she’s covered in acid. Hurt skates over her features, and he digs into it. “You want to do this, Amelia, then do it right. Because otherwise you’ll end up dead, and you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself.”

 

Amelia recoils.

 

Guilt twists his gut, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t want to, because he can’t do a goddamn thing about _anything_ , can he? He thought she’d learn that this world would only end in misery and death for her, but she keeps coming back. How much longer can he do this? Work near her, powerless as he watches her shape herself into a weapon, following a path that will only end with her blood spilled?

 

He can’t do it anymore.

 

At least that’s what he tells himself, right up until a fine shimmer fills her eyes. Before he can fully grasp what he’s seeing, Amelia blinks it away and nods, looking away from him.

 

“Right,” she says, and his chest cracks in two, exposing the raw edges of his battered heart. “Okay then.”

 

Without another word, she turns and heads down the hallway towards the training mats.

 

“Damn it,” he whispers, watching her go. The spot where she touched him aches, wrapping a tight fist around his heart. What is he doing? God, he has no idea.

 

He doesn’t know anything.

 

Will rubs his face until it burns before trailing after her.

 

The sound of boxing gloves thumping together greets him, followed by Ellie’s too-chipper voice. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

 

He comes out in time to see Amelia walking towards her, catching the gloves that Alex tosses her way. “You’re so tiny,” Amelia says, shoving a glove under her arm to pat Ellie atop the head. “Can you even reach my ass?”

 

Will wonders if he actually hears the uneven tremor in her voice or if he’s imagining things.

 

Jules snorts as Ellie shoves Amelia’s shoulder, making her laugh. It’s still an odd sight to see, even after all these months. Despite the welcoming party she received, Amelia has slipped right into the group, filling a niche none of them knew was even there. Even Jules has warmed up to her, as much as she can, offering the other woman what could almost be called a smile as Alex helps her unlace her own gloves.

 

That is, until Alex kisses her reddened knuckles the moment her hands are free.

 

Jules pays no attention to Amelia or anyone else in the room except Alex, then.

 

Will watches as she wraps an arm around her boyfriend’s neck and pushes up on her toes to give him a sweaty kiss, letting out a satisfied hum when she eventually falls back on her heels. He doesn’t know what to call the feeling that burns his chest at the sight. At some point over the last year and a half, Will got used to seeing his best friend and his little sister together. He’s happy for them. He’d never in a million years thought of them as a possible couple, but they fit in ways he wouldn’t have expected. It’s nice seeing them both so genuinely happy and in love.

 

It just also fucking sucks to be around.

 

“Alright,” Jules says, turning around fast enough that her ponytail slaps like a whip against her neck. She leans back against Alex who drops a kiss to the top of her head as she surveys the other team members.

 

Sara hangs back, working on rolling up leftover handwraps and pretending not to be staring at Ellie from the corner of her eye. Ellie bounces around like she mainlined sugar that morning, her gaze fixed on Amelia where Eric is talking to her. He’s playing trainer, giving Amelia a murmured pep talk as he wraps her hands in prep to be shoved into the boxing gloves. She’s all concentration, but it doesn’t take away from the thin line between her brows as she nods at Eric’s words. At some point when Will wasn’t looking, she’d tugged her shirt off, leaving her in nothing but a sports bra and her sweatpants.

 

Her abdominal muscles flex as she pushes her hands into her gloves.

 

Will bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

 

“Let’s do this, ladies,” Jules announces.

 

“And gentlemen,” Eric adds, throwing his hands up.

 

Jules snorts. “You aching to get beat up, _primo_? I’ve got no problem taking you down after they’re done.”

 

“Bring it, Tempest,” he retorts. “I been doing this longer than you.”

 

“Maybe.” She gives him a blithe smile. “Doesn’t make you better.”

 

“How about you guys trash talk somewhere else so Amelia and I can fight, huh?” Ellie asks, rolling her eyes at her sister.

 

Jules waves at them. “May the best woman win!”

 

That’s when Will turns away. Watching his sisters battle is bad enough, but he can’t watch Amelia fight. The few times he’s snuck a glance when they’re training has ended with him damn near vaulting over whatever was in his way to shove himself between her and whoever was coming after her. It’s stupid, and he knows it. But, while he can keep himself in check with his family, when it comes to Amelia…

 

She’s always been a different story.

 

He heads to the computers, looking for something - anything - that will distract him. The grunts and sharp thwack of gloves hitting are hard to tune out, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He can’t watch her fighting, but at least this way he knows she’s still okay.

 

With a groan, Will drops in one of the chairs before the bank of monitors.

 

Here. There. With her. Away from her. In-betweens seem to be how he lives his life these days.

 

A bowl of popcorn appears on the desk in front of him a split-second before his stepmother sits down at his side.

 

“Food for your thoughts?”

 

Will blinks. He hadn’t even heard her come up behind him. Hell, he had no memory of anyone being in the kitchen, much less smelled the hint of burnt popcorn in the air. Looking back on the last few minutes, all he remembers is Amelia.

 

_Pathetic._

 

They’d been in a meeting, his brain absently registers, his stepmother, his father, Uncle Roy, Uncle John, and Aunt Lyla. When he’d lain down, they’d been in one of the conference rooms close to where he’d been sleeping. When had they come out?

 

Will clears his throat and sits up, eyeing the bowl. “If that’s your butter-free crap, no thanks.”

 

“It is not crap,” Felicity replies, grabbing a few kernels.

 

“It’s flavorless starch,” he informs her, making a face as he picks up a single piece. “That, by definition, is crap.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Felicity replies in a way that makes Will smile as she protectively tugs the bowl towards her. “I guess we’ll see how you’re doing in twenty years, mister, when all you’ve eaten is fake butter.”

 

His smile falters. Twenty years. It’s hard to think that far in the future when the present is so…

 

 _Bleak_.

 

Felicity doesn’t miss a thing, and the instant Will realizes it, he plasters another smile on his face. “You know, maybe you’re right,” he says, reaching for the bowl. “I should-”

 

A solid thump echoes through the room.

 

Will’s head snaps back towards the mats as Felicity spins in her chair to see what happened. Will holds his breath the entire time as he surges up onto his feet to get a better look, certain he’s going to find Amelia flat on her back - a fresh smattering of bruises already forming, a torn lip, maybe blood dripping from her nose, grimacing in pain…

 

He doesn’t see any of that.

 

“I finally did it!” Amelia squeals, jumping up and down near where Ellie’s sprawled on the floor.

 

Eric grabs one of her gloves and holds it up like she’s a prize-fighter as Jules stares at her with her jaw on the ground. It snaps shut a second later and she pushes off of Alex, taking a step closer to Amelia before looking at Oliver where he’s been watching silently in the background. A whole conversation happens between father and daughter that Will can’t begin to decipher.

 

“The reigning champion of the mats!” Eric declares.

 

Amelia laughs, her whole face lighting up at her success.

 

Will’s chest physically aches at the sight. It’s beautiful. _She’s_ beautiful. Joy radiates off of her and all Will can do is stare, suddenly wishing with a vehemence that takes his breath away that he could be part of that instead of someone on the outside looking in. But he can’t. Not like this. As much as he wants her to be brilliantly, blissfully happy all the time, to see that smile light up her face and her eyes sparkle with delight like that, this can’t be the reason why. Not when it means she’s one step closer to putting her life on the line against the very worst Starling has to offer.

 

Alex helps Ellie to her feet before squeezing Amelia’s shoulder with a congratulatory smile. When Sara comes over and tugs on the end of Amelia’s ponytail, winking at her, Ellie turns away, using her teeth to loosen one of her her gloves.

 

“That was amazing,” Sara tells Amelia. “I didn’t even see it coming.”

 

“It was a damn good hit,” Ellie agrees, her voice a little too loud. She turns back with an indecipherable smile as she looks pointedly at Amelia. “You must have a good teacher or something.”

 

“More than one,” Amelia agrees. Nobody is oblivious to the tension in the room as Sara’s eyes dart to Ellie before she grabs Amelia’s gloves and starts untying them for her. It doesn’t diminish Amelia’s glow in the slightest. She’s radiant under the lights of Arrow headquarters, her skin shiny with sweat and excitement. “I can’t believe I did it.”

 

“Me neither,” Jules says, appearing at her side. She covers Sara’s hands, stilling them as she looks at Amelia. “You up for another round?”

 

Amelia can’t quite hide how she blanches as she asks, “Against you?”

 

Nothing in the world could mask the satisfied smirk that crosses Jules’ face.

 

“Actually,” Oliver interrupts, stepping further into the room, instantly demanding the attention of the group. “That’ll have to wait. We have a target. Suit up.”

 

The mood shift is tangible as Amelia sobers. “Is it Domino?”

 

“Yeah,” Oliver replies.

 

Felicity stands, sidling up next to Will as she says, “Word has it at least one of his men knows who he really is.”

 

“Which one?” Amelia asks, her hands finally free. With a grateful smile to Sara, she looks to Felicity, brushing sweaty hair out of her eyes.

 

“Don’t know yet,” Oliver replies. “But we’re going to find out.”

 

“What’s the game plan?” Sara asks.

 

“We’re going to round up a few of them and see if your mother can make them talk.”

 

Amelia pales. It’s not a lot, and she squares her shoulders against her own thoughts, but Will still catches it. Beating up bad guys and holding them for the SCPD to scoop up is one thing. Implying there will be torture is another thing entirely, even if it’s Lyla Michaels at the helm. Amelia’s morals might be bending, but they aren’t that flexible. How long, he wonders, before the morally gray area they work in is too much for her? How long until she decides she’s made a mistake?

 

He hopes it’s soon.

 

“Stay here,” Oliver orders Amelia. “Clean up. You did good today.”

 

She nods, a small smile on her lips. “Thank you. Maybe I can join you guys next time.”

 

Will clenches his jaw so hard it hurts.

 

“A win is a good step. But it’s _one_ win. You’re staying here for now,” Oliver replies. He doesn’t say no. “Everyone else, wheels up in ten.”

 

The team heads into the locker rooms to clean up, chatter following them as steadily as Will’s eyes follow Amelia until she disappears from view, leaving him and Felicity alone. Even then, he doesn’t move, taking a second to right himself. She’s not going out tonight. Relief fills him at that, but dread is quick on its heels. She’s getting better and it’s only a matter of time before she’ll be joining them in the field.His stomach twists.

 

“You know, when she first showed up, I wanted her gone. I thought she would hurt you again.”

 

Will presses his lips into a thin line and glances at his stepmother. She stands next to him, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, a thoughtful but somber look on her face.

 

Yeah, he wants nothing to do with this conversation.

 

He gives her a glib smile and instead of responding, turns back to the computers. “Need me to stay tonight?” Will offers, taking his seat again. The creak of the chair under him is loud enough to crack concrete when it fills the heavy silence. “You still need to teach me that trick with the cameras when you aren’t available to be home base.”

 

Felicity doesn’t let him off the hook, though, and he bites his tongue as she continues, sitting down next to him again.

 

“You’ve always been such a good kid, but sometimes you’re the worst at facing the things that are the most personal to you. Once upon a time, that look on your face right there was all I saw whenever I looked at Oliver.”

 

Will tenses. He wants to tell her he’s fine. He wants to tell her he’s just tired from work, that he hasn’t eaten in a while - he can’t remember the last time he ate - and that he just needs to catch up on some sleep. He’s _fine_ …

 

But the words don’t come out. Nothing comes out. Will is silent, staring blindly at the keyboard before him. He doesn’t know how she does it, but sometimes she leaves him feeling like a child again. Part of him wants nothing to do with it, wants to shut the conversation down before it goes anywhere he definitely doesn’t want to venture. But another part of him just wants to listen to his mom.

 

“Will, you’ve been in love with that girl nearly your whole adult life,” she says. Will flinches, averting his eyes away from her. “And it’s become incredibly obvious over these past few months that she feels the same way about you.”

 

 _She thinks she does_.

 

The thought rises unbidden, and he lets out a short huff, bowing his head under it. She might have had those feelings for him at one point, but she made her choice more than once. It was never him. And that was when he might have deserved her. But now? He doesn’t have anything to offer, not anymore, and pretending otherwise is just fooling himself. He’s broken and battered, scarred in mind and body. Amelia is so full of light and life. She deserves someone who isn’t going to drag her down, whose problems won’t bleed all over her.

 

She doesn’t need his shit on top of the madness she keeps insisting on walking head-long into.

 

“ _Will_.” Felicity sighs as if she’s reading his thoughts. Maybe she actually can. The hand gesture she makes almost looks like a claw before she softens. “I know you two have a long, complicated history. And I’m sure I only know a fraction of it. But I keep thinking… Honey, I think you want to be with her. And I think the only reason you’re not is because you’re scared.”

 

“I’m not scared,” Will says, his voice cracking as he looks at her. “I’m fucking terrified.”

 

Felicity purses her lips. “Is that why you bit her head off?”

 

Will opens his mouth to snap back a reply - that was a _private_ conversation, end of story - but he thinks better of it a second later. Instead he just blinks at his stepmother, his mind racing to explain it away. But it wasn’t the first time, was it? Not by a long shot. Even thinking that has his chest tightening and all he can muster is a soft, “You heard that?”

 

She points over her shoulder with a tight smile. “Popcorn.”

 

The kitchen is right next to the room where he snags his naps, and the conference room where his parents and his aunt and uncle had been meeting wasn’t much further than that. God, had they all heard him?

 

Will closes his eyes, shame warming his cheeks.

 

Felicity grasps his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. It’s comforting in a way he hasn’t felt since he was small. “Is it because she wants to be a vigilante?” she asks.

 

He almost laughs. There are about a million reasons why he’s terrified. When is Amelia going to decide she’s done with this life and leave him all over again? She left him in the dust for less complicated reasons. What happens when things get too morally murky on the team, or she realizes just how damaged he really is? She won’t stay. Why would she? Half the time he doesn’t want to be around himself, and it’s not like he’s giving her any reasons to stick around. And then there’s the very real fear that he’s going to lose her to the mask. That only ends one way: her going out one night and having her lifeless body carried back.

 

All Will can do is stare at his hands.

 

“So…” Felicity drops her hand to tap a nail against the back of his hand.  “You do realize that I have a little experience in loving a vigilante, right? Like, I’m an actual expert on the topic. I could write a book - _‘How to Love a Vigilante Without Completely Losing Your Mind: A Memoir.’_ ”

 

Will huffs out a gritty chuckle. “Think there’s a market for that?”

 

“Must be,” she replies. “You could sure use it."

 

“Felicity…”

 

“Do you know how I keep from worrying myself into a useless puddle about the possibility that your dad won’t come back?”

 

Will doesn’t trust his voice so he just looks at her.

 

“I don’t,” Felicity says.

 

He frowns. “What?”

 

“I don’t,” she repeats, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I mean, I _do,_ obviously, because my husband and my children are out in the world doing crazy things. But… I can’t let that control me. I’ve known since the day I met your father that one day he might walk out those doors and not come back.” Emotion resonates in every word. “I love him, and I believe in him. In your sisters, too. But they’re human, Will. They’re just people, like you and me. And people die. Whether that’s today or forty years from now, it’s gonna happen eventually. But letting that get in the way of living your life to the fullest? Letting that stop you from loving someone fully? It’s stupid. It’s foolish. Living your life in fear of death isn’t living, Will. It won’t change anything. So make memories. Stop making regrets. That’s my advice.”

 

“I…” Will shakes his head, staring at her with a vulnerability he can’t comprehend. “I have no idea how to do that.”

 

“You’ll figure it out,” Felicity replies with a wink. She pats his hands. “If not for yourself, then for her.”

 

She nods a little over his shoulder and he turns to find Amelia leaving the locker room. It looks like she just scrubbed her face and pulled her hair back in a fresh ponytail, switching her sweatpants for jeans and a t-shirt.

 

Will watches her walk back to the mats and grab her water bottle.

 

How anyone can be so stunning when they’re covered in sweat with bruised knuckles is mind-boggling. How anyone can captivate him so fully without even looking his way is incredible. How anyone can-

 

“Oh my God, just go talk to her, you dolt,” Felicity orders, shoving his chair away. Will opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off with, “At least get your butt over there and apologize, hm?”

 

It comes as a friendly recommendation, but he knows a Felicity chastising when he hears one.

 

He doesn’t move right away and her look turns stern before she waves him off.

 

It’s a testament to his stepmother that when he stands up, it’s with a smile and a small chuckle. Only she can cut him to the quick while simultaneously lifting him up. Her words ring in his head. He doesn’t buy everything she’s saying, but parts of it sink in, slowly taking root. Especially when he looks back at the mats.

 

Back at Amelia.

 

_Make memories. Not regrets._

 

His feet take him to where she stands with her back to him, fiddling with the top of her water bottle before she takes another drink. Heart in his throat, he pauses, but she’s like gravitational force pulling him in. It’s always been like that with her, but he’s done everything in his power to fight it. And now, with Felicity’s words carrying him along, he finally gives in.

 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts.

 

Amelia freezes mid-swig. She barely has the water bottle pulled away when she whips around, eyes going wide when she sees him. Her mouth is full of water and she swallows it abruptly, coughing a little, sending a stream down her chin. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he can’t help but smile as her cheeks pinken, her hand flying up to wipe it away.

 

“For earlier,” Will explains. “I’m sorry. I was a dick.”

 

“It’s okay,” she replies with an uncertain smile.

 

“No,” he says. “It wasn’t okay. It’s not okay, I’ve been a dick for a while and I know that… I need… I mean, I want you to know that it’s not-”

 

“Will,” she interrupts, taking a stuttered step towards him, her hand out. His heart catches, especially when she changes her mind and abruptly lets her fingers fall to her side. “It’s really okay. You have been a little rude…” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, you have been kind of a dick. But I appreciate the apology nonetheless.”

 

He nods.

 

Silence stretches for a beat too long.

 

Will almost tosses the towel in. But he doesn’t want to. That realization hits him like a brick wall, stunning him. He’s spent _months_ doing everything in his power to avoid her, and now, he finds himself wanting… No, _needing_ to be near her, to talk to her. He isn’t sure what clicked or changed, but the very last thing he wants to do right now is leave. It’s so jarring, he almost laughs. Instead his mind jerks around, finding something - _anything_ \- to talk about.

 

“You, uh… You did good,” he offers, gesturing at the mat. “With Ellie, I mean. Beating her isn’t easy.”

 

A soft smile tugs at her lips and she ducks her head before catching herself. Her smile grows under his gaze, the shimmer of pride in her eyes absolutely beautiful. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s hard,” he says, a little too loud. Her brow furrows and he clears his throat. “Seeing you do that. It’s… It’s still hard, even after all this time.” Her smile disappears and her shoulders tighten as she draws herself inwards. His stomach drops - _please don’t pull away from me_ \- and he steps closer, grabbing her fingers in his. Her breath hitches, her eyes widening. His heart pounds in his chest as he waits for her to pull away, to push him away. He would deserve it. But instead her hand curls in his, her fingers slowly slipping between his, just enough. She’s barely breathing. Hell, he’s barely breathing. “I’m glad, though,” Will admits quietly. “As much as it scares the shit out of me, I’m really glad you can defend yourself. It’s impressive. Really, every… everything about you is impressive.”

 

Her skin pinkens under his gaze. It’s gorgeous under the thin layer of sweat she still carries. A gentle flush slips over her cheeks and his fingers itch to follow it. Her eyes dance over his face, and he knows she’s trying to get a read on what’s happening, just as much as he knows that never in a million years did he think he’d close this gap between them. He’s fought it for so long and now, it’s like no time has passed at all.

 

Will swallows hard. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, what’s happening, but he does know he doesn’t want to stop.

 

Amelia’s fingers twitch against his and he slides his hand closer to hers.

 

“Will,” she breathes, her lashes fluttering as she looks down at where their hands are clasped. He freezes. Is this too much? Did he push her too far away? Is he crossing a line, is she going to pull away like before? Like always?

 

His heart pounds wildly against his chest and he opens his mouth to apologize, telling his hand to let hers go… “Can we talk?”

 

Will stops breathing.

 

She looks back up at him. She bites her lip so hard it turns white around her teeth. “It doesn’t… It doesn’t have to be now, but… You’re right here, and I…” She takes a slow breath, staring into his eyes. “I still miss you.”

 

“Amelia,” he whispers before he can so much as think. All the reasons why he’s been pushing her away rush back in a swarm that takes his breath away. His chest squeezes, his mind blanking. Everything Felicity said evaporates as his nightmares fill his head. Suddenly, they aren’t in the bunker, they’re in the art museum and she’s dying… Will blinks and reality is back. If Amelia can see his struggle, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she waits. When he looks back later, he’ll know it’s because she waits, looking at him with so much hope that he adds, “Yeah, we can talk.”

 

God, he hopes he isn’t making a mistake.

 

Tendrils of dread wind around his heart, but then she smiles. It lights up her whole face, and for a split second he forgets about every single one of his reservations.

 

A loud clatter and voices talking over each other come from the locker room as the team steps out, fully dressed in leathers and armed to the teeth. It takes Will a beat too long to release Amelia’s hand, and nobody misses it if the looks on their masked faces are any indication.

 

Before anyone can say anything, though, Oliver’s talking.

 

“Low risk mission,” his father says. “But we need to hit a lot of targets at once. Roy, prep the backup site. We’re not bringing anyone back here. Everyone else divvy up like we discussed. Felicity…” Oliver looks to his wife, his face softening. “This might take a while.”

 

Will can tell in those five words that they had plans for tonight that will have to wait.

 

Felicity takes it in stride, as always.

 

“Pizza for dinner it is, then,” she replies, typing with purpose as if she hadn’t been spying on Will and Amelia. She smiles at Oliver before standing up, holding her hand out to him with wiggly fingers. He meets her halfway, taking her hand and tugging her closer. With a smile, she grips the collar of his suit and pushes up onto her toes to kiss him. The kiss is soft and chaste, but it leaves their team leader with a smile all his own. Felicity hums before pausing. “Oh, but not Domino’s pizza,” she orders her husband. “And not just because their pizza tastes like cardboard, but because, well… you know.”

 

Oliver huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head at her. “You got it.”

 

They share one last lingering look before they part. A low ding sounds from Will’s side and Amelia tugs her phone out as Oliver heads to where the team is heading out.

 

“Oh, and Will?” Felicity says over her shoulder as she heads back to her computers. “You don’t need to stay. I’ve got this if you wanted to… you know… go grab an early dinner? Or maybe, I don’t know, buy Amelia a cup of coffee and chat, or…”

 

To his horror, Will blushes. He glares at his stepmother with an, _‘Are you seriously doing this right now?’_ look to which she replies with a, _‘Did you really expect anything else?’_ look of her own.

 

“Actually,” Amelia says, yanking his attention back to her. Considering everything, that was not the response he was expecting. But, it’s not her words that have him reacting. There’s a nervous edge to her voice now and when Will looks at her, she’s staring down at her phone, her lips pale. He instinctively steps towards her and she gives him a pathetic excuse for a smile. “I’m sorry, but I… I’d really much rather get coffee with you, but I have something I have to do.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Will asks.

 

“Yeah,” she replies, indicating her phone. “The police want me to come in as soon as possible for another interview.”

 

“Another one?” Felicity asks. “They’re being shockingly thorough.”

 

“The mayor was the police chief’s wife,” Amelia says with a shrug. “I was the only person who saw her murder other than the killers. Guess that leaves a lot of i’s to dot and t’s to cross.” She looks at her phone again. “I think Chief Malone wants to make sure they aren’t missing anything important.”

 

How many times has she had to relive that day already? Easily half a dozen, and that was just in the first month after it all went down, mostly before she showed up at their door. No wonder she has nightmares, he thinks. She’s constantly being forced to go through it over and over until it’s a living breathing entity in her mind. He knows what that’s like and he’d give anything to keep her from having to go through it again. But he can’t. Not any more than he can keep her from putting on a mask and picking fights with men more experienced and more lethal than her who don’t understand how precious her life is.

 

“Raincheck?” Amelia asks him tentatively.

 

“How about I drive you?” Will finds himself asking instead.

 

Amelia starts, clearly not expecting that. A myriad of emotion washes over her face as she stares at him, almost like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t, because he isn’t going to let it, not after spending five months of waiting for it to drop himself. She opens her mouth and his eyes drop to her lips of their own volition. Even as a sweaty mess with a sloppy ponytail, she’s the most entrancing woman he’s ever met.

 

It’s a damn miracle he’s stayed away from her this long.

 

“You don’t have to,” Amelia says.

 

“I want to,” Will replies. “Unless you don’t want me there.”

 

“No,” she says in a rush of breath, her hand darting out to grab his wrist. “No, I want you there. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, Amelia.”

 

A slow smile pulls at her lips. “I’m gonna go put on something more interview-appropriate,” she says before pausing. “Will you…?”

 

“I’ll be here when you get out.”

 

She stares at him, not quite believing him. It’s almost ironic given their track record that she’s the one waiting for him to leave. Honestly, he probably would have a few days ago if she’d asked. Hell, he would’ve told her no if she had asked now, and they both know it. Which is why she didn’t. Keeping his distance from her hasn’t worked, though, not like he wanted it to. This probably isn’t the smartest thing, but he also doesn’t care.

 

Will gives what he hopes is a reassuring nod and her cheeks turn pink as she presses her lips into a thin line like she’s attempting to keep from smiling.

 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll be right back then.”

 

He nods again as she turns away, heading back to the locker rooms. Will watches her every step, soaking her in like he always does. But now something’s different, he thinks, eyes drifting over her. _He’s letting her in_. He sucks in a quick breath at that. He has no idea if that’s a road she even wants to go down anymore, but for the first time in a long, long time, he finds himself wondering if that’s a possibility. He wants it.

 

God, he almost laughs, it’s that incredible. He had no idea how close to the cliff he was until Felicity nudged him over and now he’s falling…

 

Amelia gets about halfway to the locker rooms before glancing back at him over her shoulder.

 

The gentle smile she gives him leaves him feeling so connected and right and at _home_ that it takes his breath away. _Inevitable_. Somehow, some way, she was always meant to be part of his life.

 

It just wasn’t supposed to be like this, he realizes. The thought sobers him as she disappears.

 

“So,” Felicity muses. “That’s some progress.”

 

Will casts a long look her way. “It’s just a ride to the police station.”

 

Felicity nods. “Right. That’s all it is. Gotcha.”

 

“It is.”

 

“I heard you the first time.”

 

Will can’t quite hide his eye roll as he turns away from her, missing the small smile his stepmother casts his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primo is Spanish for cousin.


	5. Chapter 5

Will smooths his hands down his shirt for the umpteenth time.

 

He’s nervous, which is ridiculous, but he is. A nest of butterflies fidgets en masse in the pit of his stomach, upping his antsiness as he waits for Amelia. He catches Felicity shaking her head at him every other minute, but he ignores her. This is her fault, really. She’s the one who had to sow that tiny little seed of wonder and hope and doubt about how he’s handled everything. Okay, fine, she more cast a light on it, but still.

 

The click of heels yanks him from that thought and he turns to face the locker rooms.

 

She’s quicker than he thought she’d be, but judging by the look on her face when she finally appears, he understands why.

 

She’d thought he would be gone. But he’s right where she left him, waiting for her.

 

His nerves drain away as he watches her pause at the locker room entrance. Her hair’s still damp from the shower, but she’s dressed professionally, a jacket thrown over her arm, revealing her thin peach blouse. She took time to reapply her makeup, too. He silently scoffs at himself. Of course she did - she wants to be presentable as a solid witness and do her best to streamline the situation so she can get it over with quicker.

 

It has nothing to do with him.

 

“Hey,” she says with a nervous smile.

 

“Hey,” he replies, moving towards her. “You ready?”

 

Amelia lets out a long, slow breath. “As I’ll ever be.” She glances at the bank of computers. “Bye, Felicity.”

 

The animated blonde at the helm turns to respond, but someone speaking through her comm unit has her whipping back to her computer screen. Felicity instantly falls into Overwatch mode, vaguely waving them goodbye without looking up as her fingers race across the keyboard, easily losing herself in the task before her. And thank goodness for that. Will can barely handle it with just a few vigilantes out in the field, much less the entire team spread across multiple locations.

 

Add Amelia to that?

 

Will grimaces, shying away from that thought.

 

“You okay?” Amelia asks.

 

“Yeah,” Will replies, plastering on a smile. “Let’s go.”

 

The urge to wrap his arm around her waist has his fingers itching as they head toward the lair’s garage. When they reach the exit, his hand naturally migrates to her lower back as he pushes the door open and ushers her through. Her skin is an inferno under his fingers, and it’s somehow worse through her thin blouse. Will yanks his hand back, making a tight fist, bowing his head away when the movement has her turning to look back at him.

 

He bites the inside of his cheek and shoves his hands into his pockets, purposefully slowing his gait to put space between them as they make their way to his car.

 

It’s a mistake, though, because it means he sees the bodily jerk she gives when a shiver hits.

 

“Oh,” Amelia whispers, shivering again. Will slows his pace even more when he’s a couple steps behind her as she grabs her jacket from over her arm. “Guess I should’ve taken a moment to dry my hair better. It’s colder out than I remembered.”

 

Another shiver wracks her thin frame and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s at her side, grabbing the jacket from her hands.

 

“Here,” Will says quietly, holding it open for her. A hint of her perfume lingers in the material and he breathes it in as Amelia glances back at him with a startled look. A tentative smile replaces it as she nods her thanks and steps back, slipping into her jacket. He tells himself to let her go, to get in the car, but instead he helps her shrug into it, watching in fascination as her long hair balloons slightly at the collar. His hand slips down her arm where he unconsciously squeezes her bicep. “Better?”

 

“Yeah,” she replies, looking back at him. “I am.”

 

It’s barely audible.

 

His hand hasn’t moved.

 

Clearing his throat, Will abruptly steps around her and heads towards his side of the car. He quickly climbs in, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel as tight as he can when she follows suit.

 

He’s just driving her to the police station. That’s it. That’s all.

 

Will tries to remind himself of that as silence dominates the air between them, neither speaking as he pulls out of the parking garage and heads toward SCPD’s headquarters. Half a dozen conversation starters whip through his head, but every single one circles around where they’re going and what she has to do, and he doesn’t want to make her talk about it. And something as banal as, _‘How are you?’_ or, _‘How about that crazy snow last week, that was weird, right?’_ is just stupid considering the length and breadth of their history. Although as the seconds tick by, he starts to consider them.

 

Until he catches her wringing her hands out of the corner of his eye.

 

She fidgets, picks at her cuticles, taps her foot against the floor mat. It starts out small, but the closer they get to the police station, the louder it becomes. She glances out her window, out the windshield, her breaths a little too quick before she ducks her head to stare at her hands.

 

When she rips off a large piece of skin from her nail, eliciting a thick drop of blood and a tiny gasp of pain, Will says, “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

The look she gives him screams that she doesn’t believe him. But she wants to. Badly.

 

“You’re safe now,” Will promises. “It’s over.”

 

“I know,” she whispers. “I know that. It’s just…”

 

“I get it,” he replies. “It doesn’t matter how many times you go over it in your head, how many times you try to put it to rest, it’s still there. Just try to remember that it _is_ over, okay? When they talk to you, remember that.”

 

Amelia gives a short nod and looks down. She picks at the tiny wound she just made a bit more. And, before she can do any more damage, Will reaches over and grasps her hand. Some of her blood smears on his fingers, warm and sticky. It makes him falter, but when she grabs his hand back with both of hers, it grounds him, and he forces himself to keep talking.

 

“Hold a cup of coffee,” he says. “Or grip the edge of the chair. Dig your nails into your palms. Something solid and tangible that is the here and now, and not what happened in that room. Okay?”

 

“I can’t wear necklaces,” Amelia blurts. She lets go of his hand with one of hers to touch her neck with shaky fingers. But like even that’s too much, she yanks her hand away. “I-I used to love them, but now it’s like there are fingers closing around my throat all over again. Tight sweaters and coats, too. I pulled out my winter clothes and I had to give half of them away, because even the _thought_ of them getting too close to my neck was…”

 

There’s a fine tremble under her words as they fall out of her, admissions she’s been holding onto for far too long. All Will can do is listen, holding her hand, in awe of the strength she exudes without a single thought and that she’s admitting her fear so freely. He can barely think about his without diving into a bottle.

 

Amelia licks her lips, pressing them together tightly as she touches the collar of her jacket. “Even this coat, I can’t stand it buttoned all the way. It feels like I can’t breathe.”

 

“But you keep wearing it,” he notes, eyeing the gray wool fabric.

 

“I don’t like losing,” she says. “I’m not going to let Domino take anything else from me. Not even my favorite damned coat. He beat me once. Never again.”

 

The vehemence in her voice echoes through the car and when Will looks at her, she’s sitting up taller, her shoulders squared, any evidence of her nerves disappearing as she stares straight ahead with a purpose he can’t begin to fathom. There’s always been a fierce strength about her, since the day he met her, and it’s only refined with age. And trauma. His chest squeezes. She won’t let Domino win, he realizes, not if she has anything to say about it. Despite everything she’s endured, she’s fighting tooth and nail to best it. To best Domino.

 

“You’re not afraid of him?” Will asks.

 

“Not half as afraid as he should be of me,” Amelia replies, looking at him.

 

“How do you do that?” he asks, his voice small. “How do you just… let it go?”

 

“I don’t,” Amelia says. “It’s always with me. It’s always trying to… to choke me. But I’m not going to let what happened keep defining my life. They couldn’t kill me. I’m not gonna sit back and act like they did.”

 

Will stares at her and when it looks like she’s going to meet his gaze, he casts his eyes back to the road.

 

He hears what she’s saying. Some part of him understands it even, but it still rings false.

 

The world blurs slightly and Will grips the steering wheel tighter, gritting his teeth against a rush of saliva flooding his mouth.

 

She makes it seem so easy, like it’s as simple as one plus one, like all you have to do is open your eyes and there’s the path. But it isn’t. Not for him. He’s too broken, fractured numbers that don’t equal what they used to, no matter what he does. He’s living his life as best he can. He’s helpful to the team, taking time to learn from Felicity to be better when he’s filling in as Brother. He’s useful at work. He’s physically about back where he was before the shooting. He takes care of Beth and helps his dad with family dinners. He’s going through all the right motions. He’s on the path he was on before the shooting.

 

Except now he’s a fraud.

 

He’s not the person any of his family or friends expect him to be. Part of him died on the floor of that museum and, unlike Amelia, it hasn’t been resurrected from the ashes to make him more than he was before.

 

This, he thinks... This is exactly why he stayed away from her. He’s terrified, yes, but she’s so much stronger than him, so much braver. She’s _whole_. All he has to offer are jagged pieces that don’t fit together anymore.

 

“We’re here,” he grits out unnecessarily as he turns into the parking lot of the main precinct for the Starling City Police. He relinquishes his hold on the steering wheel to let the car park itself, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

 

The car powers down and Amelia doesn’t move.

 

An aggravated huff escapes her as she looks up at the building. Just like that, all the nerves she’d obliterated a few minutes ago are back full force. Her foot starts tapping again and she bites her lip before sinking back into the seat. With a short laugh, she closes her eyes and admits, “This never gets easier.”

 

“Come on,” Will says, unbuckling his belt and opening the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

Amelia blanches. “You’re going with me?” she asks. He barely hears it, already out and moving around the car to open her door.

 

“I’m here,” he replies with a shrug, holding out a hand to her. “I figured I might as well stick around.”

 

The instant her hand touches his, he simultaneously regrets it and wants to never let her go. He almost misses her quiet, “Did you now?” as he helps her out of the car.

 

“For a little while,” he amends. “They might make you wait a bit.”

 

“They are good at that.”

 

He releases her hand as she falls into step with him, but neither of them moves to pull away. Their fingers brush together as they walk, sending tiny sparks of awareness shooting up his arm. His pinky itches to curl around hers, to anchor her to him, but he doesn’t. It’s ridiculous how much even the most innocent touch makes him want more. And it only reminds him why he worked so hard to keep his distance… a distance he’s quickly becoming more and more okay with throwing away.

 

It’d be so easy to stop right there on the steps of the precinct and pull her close, to press his forehead to hers and breathe her in as he laces their fingers together.

 

 _Damn her_. It’s not fair how easily she does this to him without even trying.

 

And yet he doesn’t move his hand away.

 

“Would be rude of me to just kick you out at the curb,” Will adds. “I’d have at least slowed down, but still.”

 

That earns him a small chuckle and he grins. The lightness doesn’t last, though, as good as it feels, because the second they reach the doors she stiffens, the color draining from her face. He opens his mouth to reassure her, but before he can she squares her jaw and opens the door, sweeping inside only to pause once more.

 

“You’ve got this,” Will murmurs, his fingers brushing her lower back.

 

She lets out a rattling sigh and heads to the main desk.

 

He doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to what she or the desk officer say. He’s more attuned to her body language than anything else. A tense line works up her back and he can see the muscles bunching in her shoulders as she talks, her fingers slowly pressing harder into the countertop until her nails turn white.

 

Will sidles up closer to her and rests his hand against her back. He presses close, so she can feel him through her coat, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the rough fabric. He hopes the heat and pressure is even the tiniest bit soothing. Whatever she’s saying to the officer falters, just long enough to make him wonder if he’s confusing things even more than they have already tonight, but then she keeps talking.

 

And she leans back into his touch.

 

Warmth fills his chest and he doesn’t have it in him to stop touching her. Instead he increases the pressure, glancing at the officer when she’s done.

 

“It shouldn’t be too long,” the man says. “Thanks for coming down so fast, Ms. Prescott. If you two want to take a seat right over there, someone will be with you shortly.”

 

“Thank you,” Amelia replies with a stilted smile before turning towards the row of chairs against the far wall. She takes a deep breath and tries to exhale slowly, but it comes out in an uneven mess that makes her cough.

 

“You’re okay,” Will reminds her as they make their way to the chairs and sit down together. “They’re the ones who should be afraid of you, remember?”

 

All that gets him is a strangled laugh that sounds more like a choked gasp.

 

She’s terrified, that much is obvious. But just as evident is that she’s going to do this despite her reservations. And she’ll do it without complaint, because it’s the right thing to do.

 

That’s how she’ll win.

 

He doesn’t think she has any clue how rare that is.

 

The minutes tick by in slow lurches, and her nerves don’t let up. Her eyes dart all over the room, hyper-aware of every single sound, from doors closing to chairs scooting across the linoleum to someone clearing their throat. She plays with her hands before forcing herself to still only to dissolve into foot taps a minute later. That leads to tugging on her hair which transitions into her fingers hovering over her neck, right where he’d seen the bruises all those months ago.

 

“Amelia,” Will says, his voice low. She starts like she’d forgotten he was there, but he knows that’s not it. She’s just lost in a complicated web of memories. He nods at her shoulders. “Take off your jacket.”

 

She blinks, effectively caught off guard, which is exactly what he wants. “What?”

 

“Please?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

 

She clearly doesn’t know what to make of his request, but she shrugs off her jacket anyway, draping it over the arm of her chair.

 

“Thank you. Now look that way,” Will says. Amelia furrows her brow at him and he gives her a plaintive look. “Just trust me.”

 

It’s a heavy request, and it’s only when he utters the words that he realizes it. _Trust me._ It’s laughable. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she did just that, laughed in his face and asked him why in holy hell she would ever do that after how he’s treated her the last few months. But she doesn’t. She pauses, searching his face as she tries to make sense of what he’s doing, but she also does what he asks and turns the direction he pointed.

 

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto.

 

Will readjusts in his chair, and when it groans she tilts her head, trying to sort out what he’s doing.

 

He brushes her hair over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers grazing the bare skin at the back of her neck. Amelia sucks in a wild breath, going still under his touch, and he can’t help imagining the look on her face - Are her eyes closed? Her lips parted? Does her tongue dart out to wet them as she waits?

 

Is he completely losing it, hoping that it’s all of the above?

 

Hands shaking slightly, Will sets them on her shoulders. His eyelids flutter at the heat of her skin coming through her thin blouse. He swears it warms even more as he lets her adjust to him touching her before he digs his thumbs into the tightly knotted muscles right along her spine.

 

“Oh _God_ ,” Amelia breathes out in a groan.

 

It’s the most erotic thing he’s ever heard and he immediately regrets doing this in the middle of a police station as a whip of arousal slices through him. His pants tighten and he bites the inside of his cheek to dampen the sensation. But he doesn’t stop. Will digs in even deeper, eliciting a richer groan that has him nearly melting right there. It’s not just his recent celibacy that has sparks of arousal spreading like a wildfire. It’s that it’s _Amelia_ making these sounds. It’s that she’s groaning aloud in pleasure because of what he’s doing to her.

 

Oh shit, he really shouldn’t have started this right now.

 

Will swallows past the lump in his throat as Amelia leans back into his hands, silently urging him to rub deeper, harder…

 

“Here?” he asks roughly, finding a particularly tight knot. She makes a strangled noise in response and it kicks the tiniest bit of common sense back into his head. “Is this okay? I should’ve asked, but-”

 

“Yes,” Amelia interrupts in a breathy sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Don’t stop, Will.”

 

Will nearly chokes on his next breath and he immediately bites his lip to silence it. That’s not what this is about, he reminds himself. And that’s true. He’s helping her, providing comfort, distracting her… If she’s also melting under his fingers, it’s a side bonus.

 

That’s all.

 

“You’re really tight,” he whispers before his eyes bug. Did he really just say that? He usually knows exactly what to say with women. But Amelia, yet again, proves herself to be his exception. Will digs his teeth into his tongue as hard as he can. “Uh, I… you… You should try to loosen up more. Especially after a workout. Heat pads or backrubs.”

 

With a hint of a smile and a heavy-lidded look that goes right to his dick, Amelia looks over her shoulder and asks, “You offering?”

 

It’s the last thing he expects and it stuns him into silence. Will’s jaw drops, his hands stilling against her, his tongue too heavy to work. Not that he has the words. No, his mind is blank, save for an inkling of what she’s implying dancing along the edge of his consciousness.

 

His body is miles ahead of him and his pants tighten a bit more.

 

Amelia blushes, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. “That was too forward, wasn’t it?”

 

“Uh…” is literally all he has.

 

“Sorry,” she says with a grimace. She turns back around, forcing his hands to fall away from her. “We haven’t really talked about anything yet. I thought… I mean, I just figured… Well, it doesn’t matter. Thank you. You’re really good at that, and it helped a ton.”

 

“I’m glad,” Will says. It’s a minor miracle he can get the words out with still-numb lips. His eyes drop to her neck. He isn’t sure if it’s the peach color of her blouse reflecting or if he really sees the flush there. “I’m sure your neck is tense, too, but I didn’t want to do anything that might trigger bad memories.”

 

“Oh, that…” Amelia studies him, her lips curling up into a shy smile. “That’s really sweet.”

 

Warmth unfurls in his chest again and he gives her a soft, half-smile. “I never want to be the reason you hurt, Amelia. Not if I can help it.”

 

Something flashes in her eyes, moving too fast for him to catch, but he thinks he knows what she’s thinking. What have the last few months been, then, if he doesn’t want to hurt her? He doesn’t have an answer, not one that will make sense to her. Hell, it barely makes sense to him. Neither does how valid it’d felt before tonight. It strikes him again how much has shifted this evening. Just a few short hours ago he’d been content to push her away. Now, here he is - here _they_ are - and it’s the very last thing he wants to do.

 

The need to reinforce his words has him cupping her cheek in a featherlight touch.

 

After months of trying not to notice her and failing, in this moment, she’s all he sees.

 

“I know,” she whispers, leaning into his touch. His stomach dips. Does she? Even after how he’s treated her? “And I think it’d be okay,” Amelia adds, her fingers wrapping around his wrist and dragging his hand down just enough for his pinky to graze the long column of her throat. “If it’s you.”

 

His heart stutters to a heady stop. She trusts him. Despite everything, she trusts him, even with her trauma, with the one thing that still cripples her no matter how hard she fights it. _She shouldn’t_ , a voice whispers in the back of his mind, but it’s easy to ignore in this moment, with the way she’s looking at him, with the tiny spring of hope that bursts to life in his chest.

 

“Yeah?” he breathes.

 

She smiles softly. “Yeah.”

 

“Next time, then,” he tells her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It takes everything in him to pull his hand back. All he wants to do is keep touching her.

 

Amelia bites the inside of her lip. “I’m gonna hold you to that, you know.”

 

Will smiles. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

Her whole face lights up, joy spilling off her and seeping into him. It’s radiant in the best way, like he’s staring into the sun. Months of avoiding her, years of separation from her and a solid decade of history between them littered with pieces of his broken heart, and he’s still in love with her. It hasn’t diminished in the least. If anything, he’s fallen even harder over the last five months as he’s watched all that strength of hers shine. As much as it’s scared him, it’s reeled him in, kept him coming back, needing to be near her.

 

Oh yes, he’s definitely still in love with her.

 

He thinks he had it right all those years ago on the snow-laden road in the middle of nowhere when he told her he thought he always would be.

 

“Will…”

 

The breathy whisper sends a shiver down his spine. Her fingers inch over the armrest between them, brushing against his hand. His eyes slam shut as heat races over his nerve endings, sensation crashing through him. His heart pounds like it hasn’t in years. It’s perfect, hinting at everything that could be, everything he wants with a fierceness that overwhelms him. But now isn’t the time or place and he can’t let himself get lost in this - in her - right now.

 

Pulling away from her a second time takes more willpower than he knew he had. But he can’t bring himself to go far.

 

Will reaches over and takes her hand in his, rubbing his thumb against hers like a worry stone as he tries to slow his pulse toward something more normal.

 

“It’s funny, don’t you think?” he asks, his voice uneven as he looks around the room.

 

He can feel her eyes on him. “What’s that?”

 

“All the spies in the room, of course.”

 

Amelia chuckles and he looks at her with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

 

“It’s funnier when you realize how many are double agents,” she replies.

 

“Is it now?” Will leans in so their shoulders touch. “Which ones?”

 

“The old man with the mask for sure.”

 

“Mask?”

 

“Mhm, right over there,” she says, nodding toward a cop who looks like he’s probably older than the precinct itself.

 

“He’s not wearing a mask.”

 

“Sure he is. That’s why he looks so old. He’s actually twenty-two and works for MI-6.”

 

“They’re recruiting young these days.”

 

“He shouldn’t be here, really,” Amelia adds with a sigh. “But he had to follow his partner because he knows if they figure out who she is she’ll be in danger, and he can’t lose her.”

 

Will hums. “They sound closer than they’re probably supposed to be.”

 

“Scandalously so,” Amelia agrees, giving him a coy look. Her eyes drop to his mouth and they linger for a second too long before she turns back to the room. “She’s over there getting busted for a shoplifting she didn’t do.”

 

“Well, that’s a dead giveaway right there,” Will says. “When’s the last time the SCPD had time to go after shoplifters?”

 

Amelia nods. “Even burglaries and robberies are falling through the cracks these days. Well, unless The Arrow happens to… Oh, God.”

 

“What?” Will asks as she squeezes her eyes shut and her face turns beet red.

 

“I just realized something,” she admits without opening her eyes.

 

Will frowns. “About spies?”

 

“Sort of,” Amelia hedges, peeking her eyes open and sneaking a glance at him. “Remember the first time we played this game and I had a whole story about The Arrow?”

 

A burst of laughter falls out of him. “It was the best thing I’d ever heard,” he says with a huge grin. Amelia groans and pulls her hand out of his to cover her face, which makes him laugh even more.

 

“I’m pretty sure I said he was a portly guy in his sixties,” Amelia admits, voice muffled through her hands.

 

“You did, and it was amazing,” Will says through more laughter. Amelia shakes her head, shrinking into her chair. He tugs her hands away from her face and adds, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

 

“Miss Prescott? Thank you for waiting.”

 

Will jumps at the voice, dropping her hands. He’d gotten so wrapped up in this - in her - that he’d completely forgotten where they were and why. From the look on her face, he’s pretty sure she did, too. Her delighted smile drains away, her eyes switching over to the man standing before them.

 

“Chief Malone,” Amelia says, sitting up taller. “It’s, uh… it’s not a problem.”

 

Billy Malone stands before them in a wrinkled suit, layers of dark circles under his eyes and a tired smile on his lips. It’s been a long time since Will’s seen the older man - not since the mayor’s funeral last fall - but it’s obvious even to Will that the murder of his wife remains at the forefront of his mind. It’s even more evident since he’s the one out here greeting Amelia, as if he’s the one who will be conducting the interview.

 

Will and Amelia stand at the same time. She grabs for her jacket, but it slips through her shaky fingers, landing with a plop on the dirty floor. With a distracted, “Crap,” she bends down before Will can and snatches it up. Her cheeks are red when she comes back up and the smile she shoots Chief Malone is frail as hell as she says, “Sorry.”

 

Malone gives her a patient nod. “I appreciate you coming in again.”

 

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

 

The spike in her anxiety hits Will like a sledgehammer. There hadn’t been much the police requested of Will after he got shot. Helena was dead. There weren’t any arrests or trials to be had. He can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if there had been, how he could have possibly managed talking about everything over and over again.

 

It’s Will’s turn to get a nod from Malone, one he returns before the Chief says, “This may take a bit.”

 

“It’s fine,” Will says, giving Amelia a smile he hopes is reassuring as he squeezes her arm.

 

“Thank you,” she says, lowering her voice for him. “For staying with me. I really appreciate it. It helped keep my mind off things, and it was… It was nice, so thank you. For… Well, for being you, I guess. You don’t have to stick around. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Will says. “Completely jam-packed schedule. You wouldn’t even believe.”

 

She huffs, a softer, more _Amelia_ smile pulling at her lips. “I’ll see you later, Will.”

 

“Yeah.” With one last smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes this time, she turns towards the hallway. Will snags her sleeve before she can get very far, and she turns to look at him with a question in her eyes. “You’re gonna be fine, Amelia,” he says. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

She furrows her brow, her eyes darting to Malone before looking back at him. “You know a lot of people, Will,” Amelia says, her voice heavy with meaning. “A lot of strong people who do a lot more than freak out in a police station.”

 

“You’re right,” he agrees. “I do.”

 

Will sees the moment his point hits home, the disbelief that flits over her face just as Malone says, “Ms. Prescott? This way, please.”

 

Amelia gives him an absent nod, her gaze finding Will once more before she turns and follows the Chief. She glances back once just before she rounds the corner, and Will doesn’t look away until she disappears.

 

The instant she’s gone, the whole atmosphere changes. Will looks around, seeing his surroundings in a different light as the world comes back into focus. But this time it’s not spies or double agents. It’s just officers doing their jobs and a handful of petty crooks being hauled in for questioning or booking. The magic that’d been in the air a moment ago is nowhere to be found. Everything settles back into the dull rush that he’s become so used to.

 

For a guy who spends a lot of time alone, it’s striking how lonely he suddenly feels.

 

He doesn’t leave. He knows she expects him to, but it’s not even a question. Will sits back down in the ratty chair he’s spent the last half hour in and he waits.

 

The room is a continuous bustle of activity around him, but he barely pays it any attention. His fingers drift over the armrest where they’d tangled with hers not long ago. Everything in him is down the hall in whatever room Amelia’s found herself right now. She’s reliving the worst moments of her life, probably in excruciating detail, as if she hasn’t done so half a dozen times already. As the seconds tick by, he resents the fact that he can’t be in there with her.

 

Time passes slowly. He has no idea how _much_ time - could be an hour, could be four for all he knows - but it doesn’t matter.

 

How’s he supposed to be anywhere but here when she’s done?

 

When she finally emerges from the depths of the police precinct, he sees her before she sees him.

 

Will shoots to his feet, crossing the room in an instant. Malone isn’t with her, but a young female officer is, her arm wrapped loosely around Amelia’s shoulders. She’s offering Amelia something reassuring, talking to her in low tones, but it isn’t helping much. Amelia’s doing everything she can not to cry right then and there, and the sight of it cracks Will in half. Her arms wrap tightly around her middle as she nods, staring at the ground, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her hand shakes when she rubs her reddened nose.

 

“Amelia,” he says, so quiet he’s positive she can’t hear him. But she does.

 

Her head shoots up and she stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide. Her lips tremble as she covers her mouth, sobs threatening to break free as she asks, “You stayed?”

 

The officer shoots him an approving smile, but he barely sees and he doesn’t care.

 

He only has eyes for Amelia.

 

“Come here,” Will murmurs, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. He holds his hand out to her and she immediately grasps it, biting her bottom lip in a bid to control her tears. But, it’s a losing battle. When he tugs her closer, Amelia falls into him with a low cry, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

 

“She did great,” the officer says. “The bastard who hurt her and got himself tossed out the window is finally being released from the hospital and into police custody. The trial won’t be ‘til at least this summer, but her testimony is what’s going to put him and his buddy away for life.”

 

“Thank you,” Will replies, his voice betraying all the things he’d like to do to the men who dared try to kill her. The cop gets it, he thinks, because she gives him a small, knowing smile before walking away, leaving them alone. Will crushes Amelia to his chest, whispering a soft, “Shh, I’ve got you,” in her ear, sliding one hand up to cup the back of her head, anchoring her to him.

 

“I can’t keep doing this,” she mutters against his neck, clinging to him. “I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Will tells her. “I know you can. You just did, honey. You did great. And you’re okay. Right? I’m right here. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

 

They stay there for a long moment, holding each other. It’s probably too long, but Will doesn’t care. If this is what she needs, she’s going to get it.

 

With a wet sniffle, Amelia pulls back, just enough to see him. Her face is a mess of tears and pain, and it kills him to see it. He murmurs her name and cups her face, wiping at the smudged mascara under her eyes with his thumbs.

 

It’s only then that he realizes how much her teeth chatter as she shakes.

 

“Here.” Will lets her go long enough to shrug off his coat and drape it around her shoulders, adding another layer of warmth over her own jacket. He tugs it in around her, wrapping it up so she’s cocooned in the fabric before pulling her back into his arms again. He rubs his hands up and down her back with a quiet, “Is that better?”

 

“Yes,” she whispers, sounding small and fragile.

 

“Come on,” Will says, tugging her securely to his side and turning them towards the door. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Amelia buries her face in the crook of his shoulder. He tells himself he imagines her near-silent, “I already am,” as she turns further into his embrace, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt as he guides her out of the police precinct.

  



	6. Chapter 6

“I’d invite you to take off your coat, but I’m pretty sure that’s not yours.”

 

Amelia fights a smile as she steps into Maggie’s house. Trust her best friend to get right to the point. Which is why she’s here, Amelia reminds herself, despite how much she wishes Mags had eased into the topic instead of bulldozing right in.

 

She’d woken up that morning to the sun pouring through her living room window, curled up in the corner of her sofa, underneath Will’s coat. She’d been as warm and comfortable as she can ever remember being. And, it had taken her longer than it should have to leave the lazy bubble of sleep. His scent lingers in the thick material, even now. But when she’d first woken up, she’d just laid there, breathing him in for a solid fifteen minutes of fanciful thoughts and wishes before realizing she desperately needed girl time.

 

Maggie eyes the masculine coat Amelia shrugs off as she closes the door and locks it. “That is definitely not yours.”

 

“It’s not,” Amelia confirms.

 

Maggie hums thoughtfully. “You want some coffee?” she asks instead of providing the grilling Amelia expects as she walks ahead of her into the kitchen. “Or a bloody mary. Is this a bloody mary conversation?”

 

“Yes… No.” Amelia lets out a bone-deep sigh. “I don’t even know, Maggie.”

 

“That sounds a lot like a yes,” Maggie replies before ducking back into the kitchen.

 

Amelia’s about to agree as she follows along, only to stop dead in her tracks when she sees the spread of mixing bowls and pans. “I interrupted breakfast. I’m sorry. I can leave.”

 

“Don’t be dumb,” Maggie says, grabbing a piece of bacon and munching on it as she sprays a frying pan. “It’s far too late for breakfast. This is brunch. And you’re not going anywhere, not until you tell me what’s going on.”

 

“It’s Will’s coat,” Amelia admits, sagging against the wall and watching her friend with a sideways tilt of her head.

 

Maggie freezes with a cup full of pancake batter in her hand directly over the frying pan. “Will?” she repeats. “Will, as in Queen? As in Will _Queen_?”

 

Amelia nods and bites her thumbnail as Maggie’s eyes bug even further.

 

“Well, shit, Amelia, I hope you’re a helluva lot more decisive with him than you are about drinks for breakfast,” she replies, dropping the cup of batter back in its bowl and flipping off the burner to give Amelia her full attention.

 

Amelia groans and covers her face. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know anything.”

 

Thoughts of Will run rampant through her mind. They have all morning, ranging from memories of long ago to musings about last night to wondering what he’s doing right now to thinking about his lips and that light layer of stubble he’s so slow to do anything about and the thick bunch of hair just begging for her fingers to run through. It had been so much easier to pretend like she wasn’t completely obsessed with him when he was ignoring her, but after last night…

 

She pushes her hand to her racing heart. It’s a longing in her soul she’s never been able to sate.

 

But is there even a way to move forward for them? As much as yesterday gave her stupid amounts of hope, there’s still a whole decade of starts and stops between them. Too many almosts and not-quites have filled their time together and she doesn’t know where to go from here.

 

If there’s anywhere _to_ even go.

 

“Sit down,” Maggie orders, pointing at an empty chair next to the one with Deedee’s booster seat. “This is absolutely a bloody mary conversation and if you didn’t already know that walking in the door, then you’re in worse shape than I thought.”

 

Amelia slinks to the dining room table and collapses into the chair. She drops her head on the table, almost crushing a Cheerio with her forehead as she mumbles against the wood, “Can this be a pancake conversation, too?”

 

Maggie scoffs. “Obviously, I’m going to feed you,” she says, grabbing the vodka from atop her fridge while watching Amelia. “But first, get talking. How did you even run into Will Queen? And _when_?”

 

Amelia grimaces. “Well… I sort of use the same gym he does.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Maggie says slowly, blinking at Amelia in surprise, going a little heavy-handed on the vodka in her distraction. “You use the same gym he does? The same one you’ve been going to for _five months_?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia admits, biting her lip and holding her breath.

 

“And you’re just now telling me this.” Maggie shakes her head, finishing up prepping the drinks. “Well, no wonder you’ve gotten so buff.”

 

“Thanks,” Amelia says with a small, proud smile as Maggie hands her a drink. “It hasn’t been easy, but I really want to be able to defend myself. I’ve been training a lot and I think it’s going really well.”

 

“Yes, yes, you’re ripped now. It’s great.” Maggie sits down with her own drink and nails Amelia in place with a look. “Now, get back to the part where you’ve been watching Will Queen work out for the last half a year and haven’t said anything. I may be married, but I’m not dead, and that paints a very pretty picture.”

 

Amelia sucks her lower lip into her mouth, slowly digging her teeth into it.

 

Will may not be part of the team, but he still spars with his family sometimes, and he works out a few times a week in the lair when he doesn’t have to be at the firehouse. The sight of him wailing on a punching bag, or dripping with sweat on the treadmill, or his muscles bunching as he lifts weights... It’s all seared into her memory and the subject of many, many daydreams. The way he breathes heavily and how sweat pools in the hollow at his throat, it makes her mouth water and desire coil in the pit of her stomach. Every damn thing he does is sexy, whether it’s cracking a joke or arguing with his sisters or pulling babies from burning buildings.

 

It was easier to ignore how painfully aware of him she is when he was doing his best to pretend she didn’t exist, but now… God, it’s like someone ripped off a blindfold. She’s so keenly attuned to his presence that a near-constant buzz of awareness skitters across her skin when she so much as thinks about him.

 

“Hello? Earth to Amelia?” Maggie snaps her fingers in front of Amelia’s face, making her jump. “Lord, you’re gone.”

 

“Sorry,” Amelia says with a blush. She takes a sip of her drink, letting out a low, “Oh,” at how much vodka is in hers. It’s still delicious. Amelia stirs it with the celery stick as she glances at Maggie’s abandoned brunch. “Do you want me to help? I don’t want to keep Deedee and Jer from food.”

 

“Are you starving?” Maggie asks. Amelia shakes her head. “I figured it could wait a few minutes, because _this_ …” She waves between them. “Is more important. Besides, they’re watching cartoons in our room. They’re fine until I tell them food’s ready.”

 

The mental image of Deedee and her father laying side by side on their stomachs as they debate the finer points of whatever silly show they’re watching brings a smile to Amelia’s face.

 

“That’s sweet,” she says. “I’m so glad they have that.”

 

“Me too,” Maggie agrees. “I act like it’s ridiculous, but it’s a good thing. She hasn’t done well with being away from us since last fall and Jer just wants to hold her as much as he can. He’ll happily put up with her princess adventures if it means he knows she’s safe with him.”

 

Amelia’s heart drops at the thought of what the little girl has gone through. Having someone you can feel safe with has a lot of appeal.

 

“So,” Maggie says, dragging the word out as she sips her own drink. “Will Queen?”

 

“Is slowly driving me insane,” Amelia finishes with a laugh that quickly dissolves into a mournful wail. Shaking her head at herself, she takes an enormous swig of her drink, damn near draining it completely.

 

“I have no doubt of that,” Maggie replies. “Now, tell me how you got his clothing.”

 

Amelia clears her throat and sets her cup to the side. “We were both at the gym, kind of doing our own thing, when I got a notification of a voicemail I missed. I must have looked worried because he noticed-”

 

“Yes, Amelia,” Maggie says dryly. “Yes, that’s why the handsome man who’s been staring at you with heart eyes for a decade noticed you. It was your phone.”

 

“It was a message from the SCPD wanting me to come in for another interview,” Amelia continues. Maggie takes that a little more seriously, her brow furrowing and her eyes darting toward the hall to the bedroom where Deedee is safely enjoying quality Saturday morning cartoons with her dad. “He asked what was wrong and I told him. He insisted on driving me so I didn’t have to go alone.”

 

Maggie sighs. “I’m sorry. I thought this would all be over by now.”

 

“Trials take forever,” Amelia says with a pained smile. She looks down at the table, running her thumbnail against a groove in the wood. “It’ll be over when it’s over.”

 

“I’m glad he took you,” Maggie tells her. “You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

 

Amelia shrugs. “It’s okay.”

 

Maggie grasps Amelia’s hand and squeezes. “It’s not.”

 

“He waited for me the whole time,” Amelia says, getting back to why she’s there. If Maggie notices her voice shakes slightly, she doesn’t comment on it. Amelia looks up with a nervous laugh. “He rubbed my shoulders to get me to relax and held my hand and tried to distract me. And it _worked_. And when I came out three hours later, he was still there, in the same chair, waiting for me.”

 

Maggie’s always liked Will, Amelia knows, but there’s a sheen of new respect for him in her eyes now.

 

“I was shaking so hard he put his coat around me and he… He held me, and told me everything was going to be okay.” Amelia’s eyes glaze over as she revisits the night before. She rolls her lips together, shaking her head in wonder. “He called me ‘honey’ and I don’t even think he knew he did it. He drove me home, got me inside. He kissed the top of my head and waited until I’d practically fallen asleep on the couch before he tucked his coat around me, like a blanket. Like he knew it was helping.”

 

“Did he stay?” Maggie asks softly.

 

“No,” Amelia replies. “He offered to call you for me and asked if there was anything I needed, but when I said no, he told me to get some sleep. He said I should call him if I needed anything. And then he left. I woke up with his coat still around me and for a minute… For a minute, I thought it was him. It was so warm and it smelled like him and… And I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything to be true quite as bad as I wanted that, Mags.”

 

Her eyebrows slowly tick up as she considers Amelia’s words.

 

It takes too long.

 

“What do I do?” Amelia asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Maggie says. “Marry him?”

 

“ _Maggie_.”

 

“I’m kidding. Partly.” She scoots her chair closer and grabs both of Amelia’s hands. “I love you, Amelia. You know that. But, sweetie, why are you asking me what to do? You should be in his kitchen right now. Not mine.”

 

“He’s basically ignored me for months,” Amelia tells her. “I mean, there’s a lot of _looking_ at each other across the gym, but we barely talk. And any time I begin to try and apologize or talk about what happened between us, he shuts me down.”

 

“Then try again,” Maggie says. “And again, and again, for however long it takes. It’s pretty obvious that what’s between you two isn’t going to die, and you both owe it to yourselves to clear the air, if nothing else.”

 

“I don’t want ‘nothing else,’” Amelia says, looking down at the table again. Etched in the wood is the perfect picture of a life she’s never lived, one she’s secretly harbored for years. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the table before shaking her head. “Sometimes he’s so distant with me that I don’t think he’ll ever talk to me again. But then… God, Mags, but then last night he was… He was so _there_. He was right there with me and it was amazing. Better than, even. But now I’m wondering if what happened last night was the same for him, or if he was just being nice, or… I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Do what makes you happy.”

 

“He makes me happy.”

 

“Then do him.”

 

Amelia groans. “Maggie…”

 

Her mind fills in the blanks without her permission. A flush creeps up her neck as she tries to school her features into a look that says she’s _not_ imagining Will above her, beneath her, pressing her up against a wall. But it’s too vivid. She’s seen him dripping in sweat, heard him grunt on an exhale as he hits the punching bag, watched the muscles of his arms flex as he lifts weights. The only thing she doesn’t know is how his face would twist with pleasure as he comes, how he’d say her name, what it would feel like to have him fill her completely and press his forehead to hers like he did last night.

 

“Am I wrong?” Maggie asks.

 

“No,” Amelia admits. “But I didn’t need that in my head.”

 

“No, but you definitely need him in your bed.” Maggie makes a face. “Oh God, that rhymed. I’m sorry. There’s been a lot of Dr. Seuss in my life lately.”

 

“I don’t just want him in my bed, Maggie,” Amelia says. “I want a lot more than that.”

 

_But I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve it._

 

She doesn’t say those words out loud. Maggie would have a lot of things to say about them and nothing that would follow is a conversation Amelia wants to start right now. But having feelings for Will? That’s something she can fess up to easily.

 

“I know you do,” Maggie replies with a quiet smile. “I’m pretty sure you always have. Even when you didn’t want to admit it.”

 

“Yeah.” Amelia reaches for her drink and takes a sip, but the moment she does she realizes she’s grabbed the wrong one. “Ugh, Mags, you forgot the vodka in yours. Why is this…?” Her eyes snap to Maggie, who’s gone very quiet. Her best friend stares at the cup in Amelia’s hands with a hesitant air and Amelia follows her eyes as it clicks. “Oh. _Oh_. You left it out on purpose. You’re pregnant.”

 

She can’t quite quell how her heart twists and her stomach drops in a yearning bid for that herself.

 

Like she knows exactly what Amelia’s thinking, a thin line appears between Maggie’s eyes and she bites her lip. “I was going to wait to tell you,” she says, “until things were going a little better. The police keep calling you in and you’re so caught up in your self-defense training, and that’s _good_ , but I know it’s part of how you’re coping. I didn’t want to add to it, you know?”

 

“What?” Amelia shakes her head, fighting back her stupid feelings. “No, Maggie, sweetie, I am _so_ happy for you and Jer. You know I am.”

 

“I know.” Maggie reaches out and brushes her fingers over Amelia’s. “I just also know how hard this is on you. I know much you love kids.”

 

 _How much you want kids_.

 

The words linger between them and Amelia sighs.

 

“Yeah,” Amelia admits. “I do. But I also know I’ll love both of yours with everything in me. I already do. Have you _seen_ me with Deedee?” That earns her a laugh and Amelia grabs Maggie’s hand. “I’ve known most of my life that I shouldn’t try to have kids. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love yours and be the best Auntie in the whole world. And that’s what I’m gonna do. Congratulations, Mags. I am beyond happy for you and Jer. And for Deedee!”

 

“Thank you,” Maggie replies with a watery smile. “We’re thrilled. We weren’t expecting it at all. We haven’t told Deedee yet. Jer wants to, but I’d like to wait until the end of my first trimester at least. Just in case.”

 

“When are you due?” Amelia asks, glancing at her friend’s still-flat stomach.

 

“Late August,” Maggie says, her hand fluttering to her lower stomach as a grin takes over her face, some of the excitement she’s been hiding coming out. “You know we tried for over a year and nothing happened. We stopped trying after the attack, and… Well…”

 

“You’re the best mom,” Amelia tells her, leaning over and wrapping her arms around her friend. The edge of the table digs into her ribs, but she only holds Maggie tighter. “And both Deedee and your new little one are so, _so_ lucky to have you as their momma.”

 

It’s all the right words and she means every single one, but it does nothing to dull the stab of pain right in her heart. She was still in Central City when Maggie got pregnant with Deedee and that had been hard enough. But being right here? Watching her friend’s belly swell with new life and being part of helping to build the nursery and coming over after the baby’s born when Maggie and Jer need a few hours to sleep…

 

That’s the best and worst thing she can imagine all rolled into one.

 

Amelia shoves all those thoughts away as she pulls back. “Friends through thick and thin, Mags. That’s what we said, right? Well, it sounds like you’re about to be done with the thin part for a while.”

 

Maggie snorts out a laugh and shoves at Amelia’s shoulder. “God, I’m gonna be a whale again.”

 

“You’ve got a few months before we need to call the aquarium to lift you out of here,” Amelia replies. “I love you, Mags. Don’t feel like you have to hide stuff like this from me, okay? I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

 

“I know. I just don’t want you to have to.”

 

The smile Amelia manages is filled with more pain than she’s willing to admit, but thankfully she’s saved by the thud of a door swinging open and the patter of little bare feet racing toward them.

 

Deedee is a whirlwind on the best of days, even if she’s been more reserved and moody lately than she had been before the attack, but she’s always thrilled to see Amelia. It’s wondrous to watch how much the three-year-old’s face lights up when she spots her favorite “aunt” at the table. She pauses, her eyes going wide, her mouth forming a comical ‘o’ shape.

 

“Auntie Amelia!” Deedee squeals as she barrels forward, right into Amelia’s leg.

 

“Hello, my little love,” Amelia greets, helping the toddler as she climbs up into her lap and presses a loud kiss to her cheek. Amelia hugs her close, savoring the feel of this little girl in her embrace as the child wraps her arms around her as much as she can, squeezing her like she’s the most important person in the world. It’s the best feeling there is. “Would you like to help me cook brunch for your mama? I think she could use a break with your daddy for a few minutes. Let’s do some cooking for them.”

 

“‘Kay,” Deedee replies before turning solemn. “But I can’t touch the burners ‘cause they’re ouch.”

 

“They _are_ ,” Amelia agrees. “And we have to keep these little fingers safe, don’t we?” She pretends to bite one and the toddler giggles and screeches in riotous laughter.

 

“You don’t have to cook for us,” Maggie says.

 

“Stop it,” Amelia orders before standing up and anchoring Deedee on her hip. “There’s no _have to_ about spending time with my goddaughter. Go get your husband to rub your feet or something. I’ll send Dee back when we’ve got brunch on the table.”

 

“You are too good to me, but I also know better than to say no to that.” Maggie stands and heads towards her bedroom. She pauses when she reaches the hallway, though, glancing back. “Have you decided what you’re going to do _after_ brunch?”

 

Amelia bites her lips together, bopping Deedee on the nose as she says, “No, I have not.”

 

“Well, I think a good place to start is returning that coat,” Maggie replies, adding a nonchalant, “Don’t you?” just before she disappears.

 

Amelia doesn’t take it seriously. Not right away, at least. It does make her heart drop into a triple somersault that leaves her stomach fuzzy at the thought of even contacting him, but then Deedee pulls her attention back to the present, to pancakes and bacon and eggs and all the things that require her one hundred percent concentration.

 

But it lingers, hovering in the back of her mind, whispering what-if’s and maybes…

 

When it becomes too much, Amelia huffs out a silent expletive at Maggie and sends a text before she loses her nerve. It isn’t until her phone dings that she finally lets herself breathe, especially when she sees:

 

_WQ: sure_

 

Several hours later, Amelia stares into her cup of coffee as she sits at a corner table in a bustling cafe.

 

It stopped keeping her warm about ten minutes ago, but she still grips the cup with hands that she can’t get to relax. If she doesn’t hold onto the thing, she’ll chip at the lacquered wood of the table, or bite her nails into nubs, or drum her fingers in a rapid-fire pattern that earns the annoyed attention of everyone nearby. So she clings to her drink, because it gives her hands something to do.

 

But it does nothing to settle the bundle of nerves knotted in her stomach.

 

She shouldn’t have asked him to coffee. She can’t believe she did in the first place, and obviously he’s thinking the same thing because he’s _late_. Amelia groans under her breath, her foot bouncing against one of the legs of the stool she sits on. What if he doesn’t show? No, he wouldn’t do that. Amelia knows he wouldn’t, just because that’s not something Will Queen would do, even to her. But that doesn’t change that he’s not _here_. Why did she do this? She could’ve just given him the coat back at the lair. There are plenty of private places there to talk. What if she freaked him out with a coffee date? No, this isn’t a date. Is it?

 

The bell to the shop chimes and a gust of cold air breezes in.

 

Amelia’s head snaps up, but it’s not Will in the doorway. A sweet-looking older couple holding hands hobbles over to the barista with matching smiles. They’re adorable. The old man only has eyes for his wife and his hand never leaves hers as she rambles on about their grandkids to the woman at the register who clearly knows them.

 

Couples are popping out of the woodwork lately. Everyone’s happy and in love, married and having babies. It’s beautiful, a wonderful reminder that the world is filled with possibilities and connections forged between people.

 

But it’s also a bit of a gut-punch every time she sees it in action.

 

She decided a long time ago that her life wasn’t going to be about those things, but now she’s wondering if she’s stuck with that choice. She wasted so many years with Thad. And she squandered more opportunities with Will than she can count… Maybe her chance for that kind of beauty in life has passed, something else she burned to ashes long ago without realizing it.

 

A chirp from her phone jolts her and she nearly knocks over her lukewarm coffee in her rush to grab it.

 

_WQ: sry. running l8. omw. had 2 drop off bethy._

 

Amelia sags with relief and a nervous laugh.

 

When he’d said he had plans and would need a few hours before meeting, her mind had gone into overdrive. They haven’t talked about their personal lives at all. She has no idea if he’s seeing anyone. A mental image of him with another woman while she sat at home burying her face in his coat to get more of his scent was a lot to handle.

 

But it’s Beth.

 

Amelia shakes her head at herself with another self-deprecating laugh. His baby half-sister has always been a tremendously important part of his life, of course he’d been with her. He’s basically another parent to the little girl. God, she has to be ten by now. Amelia has the clearest picture of the girl when she’d been a toddler sleeping on Will’s shoulder...

 

Feeling a little foolish, she texts back.

 

_AP: No problem. I snagged us a table. See you soon._

 

For the first time since she got there, Amelia relaxes. He’s not late because he’s with someone else. And he’s on his way now.

 

Oh, _there_ are the butterflies.

 

Chewing on her tongue, Amelia blindly plows through a couple apps on her phone before settling on sifting through her email. It distracts her just enough as the coffee shop fills up around her.

 

Work is never-ending and it’s only gotten more complicated since the mayor’s death. Fewer people are interested in sticking their necks out when they know Domino is waiting to take out anyone who goes against his agenda. As far as Amelia can tell, that agenda boils down to chaos and crime. While she doesn’t know for sure that Domino’s against the hospital she’s trying to get built, everyone seems to be jumping to that conclusion after the mayor’s murder and the attack on her.

 

Cowards. She’s going to find some way to get it up and running. She doesn’t care what she has to do to make it happen.

 

“Hey.”

 

Amelia drops her phone, jumping in her seat as she whips her head up to find Will standing next to the table. She hadn’t even heard the door chime. Her mouth opens to deliver some sort of greeting, but it falters when he throws her a lopsided grin that makes her heart do a somersault.

 

“Nice coat,” he says, gesturing as he sits down opposite her.

 

“Oh.” She smiles, tugging it a little tighter around herself. “Thanks. I like it. An incredibly sweet guy I know let me borrow it.”

 

“Sweet, huh?” Will asks, his grin widening as he raises an eyebrow.

 

“Cute, too.”

 

He isn’t expecting that judging by the way he coughs, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his fingers as he sinks back in his chair a little. He doesn’t know what to say, she realizes. It was definitely a bold enough statement, wasn’t it? Amelia bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything else until he weighs in.

 

“You can keep talking,” he finally says. His tone’s a little off, but the way he’s staring at her isn’t.

 

Amelia tugs her bottom lip into her mouth as she looks away to hide a blush. Her eyes glance over the room, not really seeing any of the filled tables or hearing the rush of chatter around them. And then her gaze lands on the older couple from earlier. They’re watching her and Will with smiles that she can’t decipher. Or maybe she doesn’t want to, because the possibilities leave her with too much hope when he hasn’t really given her any reason to have any yet.

 

She clears her throat, gesturing at the cup before him. “I’d offer you your coffee, but I’m pretty sure it’s cold by now. You might want to get a new one. Sorry. I got here a little early.”

 

Will glances at his cup as if he’s just now noticing it. “You bought me coffee?”

 

“Sure,” Amelia replies. “I asked you to meet me, didn’t I?”

 

“Well… Yeah,” he admits, staring at the cold liquid thoughtfully before gingerly picking up the cup. “Thank you. Sorry I was late.”

 

“It’s fine. You were with Beth. Of course she takes priority. She should. I got some work done while I waited.”

 

He watches her for a moment, his face shifting like he’s trying to figure out something to say, or weighing his words before he gives voice to them. He never used to do that, at least not with her. Not with anyone, she thinks. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve, so open and boisterous, but now he pauses before he speaks. He waits and evaluates.

 

Guilt sinks her stomach down. How much of that change is her fault?

 

“Thanks for waiting, anyhow,” Will finally says, taking a sip of the coffee.

 

“Oh, you don’t have to drink that,” Amelia blurts out, reaching for the cup before abruptly realizing what she’s about to do. Wincing, she touches her fingers to her lips, waiting for the disgusted grimace that will surely follow.

 

She doesn’t get it.

 

“You remembered my coffee?” he asks quietly.

 

“Drip with a splash of milk, no sugar, and cinnamon sprinkled on top,” she confirms. “It’s memorable.”

 

_Everything about you is memorable._

 

Will stares at her with an indecipherable look before looking back at his cup. “Well, thanks. I’ll just grab a shot to toss into it to warm it up and be right back.”

 

“Actually,” she says, scooting out of her seat. “Do you mind if we walk? I know it’s chilly out, but it’s getting a little crowded in here.”

 

The room is filling fast, even for a Saturday night. There aren’t a ton of late-night coffee shops around this part of town, and this one is about to start an open mic night that she hadn’t realized was a thing here until she walked in an hour ago.

 

“I don’t mind the cold,” Will says before nodding to her cup. “Did you want something else? On me.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Amelia tells him with a small smile. “Just a refill of black coffee.”

 

“No problem,” he replies as she hands him her mostly-empty cup. His fingers brush against hers and their warmth is a stark contrast to the cold coffee remnants. She itches to stop him, to tangle her fingers with his like last night, but she doesn’t. Because they aren’t like that. But the crooked smile he gives her makes her wonder differently. “Be right back.”

 

Amelia tracks his every move as he goes to the counter. Her eyes drop to his ass and she’s momentarily transfixed by how tight his jeans are before she catches herself. What is she doing? _Being a warm-blooded woman, that’s what_. Still, she needs to remember their roles here. And what exactly are those roles? Nerves flutter in her stomach as she watches him get in line. She’s been trying to apologize for months and he’s never let her get the words out. But something’s changed. Tonight feels different. Last night opened a door between them that had been sealed shut. Even if he doesn’t want to hear it still, she has to try.

 

It’s not long before he’s heading back to her with two cups in hand.

 

“Ready?” he asks.

 

“Absolutely,” she replies, taking her coffee.

 

Frost settled over Starling City at some point last night leaving a light trace of snow that blankets everything. It’s crisp and fresh, just enough to make the world a blank slate, ready for the possibilities of spring. As they step outside, she spots a tiny purple crocus peeking up from a flower bed next to the shop, surviving despite the freezing temperatures.

 

“Are we just wandering?” Will asks, his breath fogging. The chill turns his nose and ears pink, somehow making him more attractive.

 

“Unless you had somewhere you wanted to go?” she asks.

 

“Nope. Lead the way.”

 

They fall in step together. It’s natural, even if it’s still a little bit strained. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, sipping his coffee, and if she wasn’t so completely attuned to him, she might have missed the little glances he sends her way as they head down the block.

 

“I’m glad you met me,” Amelia finally says. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

 

A puff of foggy air bursts from his lips before he answers. “I’ve never been very good at saying no to you, Amelia.”

 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” she asks, stopping to look at him fully. He stills, but he doesn’t turn to her, not until she touches his elbow. The look he gives her is solemn and it sends a streak of anxiety coursing through her.

 

“There are a lot of reasons I was avoiding you.”

 

“Because you’re mad at me,” she surmises.

 

Will huffs, a cloud of steam appearing before him again as he looks down, scuffing his shoe at the frosty edge of the sidewalk. “I don’t have any reason to be mad at you.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Amelia asks. “After everything I did, the way I didn’t give you anywhere near enough credit and refused to take a risk on us for _years_ even though you were right there waiting for me the whole time. You have every reason to be mad at me, Will.”

 

“You made your own choices,” Will says with a weak shrug, still staring at everything but her. “You didn’t owe me anything then and you definitely don’t owe me an apology now.”

 

“Well, that’s too bad because you’re getting one.” Amelia grabs his shoulder to turn him and she doesn’t talk until he looks at her. “Ever since the night of the car wreck, I’ve known I needed to apologize to you. I’m _sorry_. I’m so sorry I let myself question the kind of man you are. I’m sorry I was so weak and too cowardly to take chances. I’m sorry I never let myself give anything back when you were always so open with me and you always, _always_ put me first. I was an idiot, Will, and you have always deserved more than I’ve offered you. I understand why you’re mad at me-”

 

“I’m not,” Will interrupts with a tense laugh. “You’re making way too big a deal out of this. Yes, I cared about you and it hurt like hell every time it amounted to nothing, but you had your reasons. I’m not gonna stand here and blame you for your choices, Amelia, okay? It’s _fine_. Let it go.”

 

Silence stretches between them, but the quiet drowns in the rush of her heart pounding in her ears.

 

“Cared?” she repeats in a choked whisper. “You _cared_ about me?”

 

Will closes his eyes.

 

“You…” Amelia pauses, clutching her coffee too tightly as she cradles it against her chest. She tries to speak through the familiar burn of tears gathering in her eyes. “You said you loved me once. You said you thought you always would.”

 

Will lets out a pained, dry laugh. “I also said goodbye.”

 

“Yeah,” she manages. Amelia looks down to her toes and lets out a long, slow breath through thinned lips as she fights the urge to cry. “So where does that leave us?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits and she nods, blinking a sheen of tears away as she looks blindly to the street where a car passes. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here.”

 

Amelia’s head whips back to look at him. “You are?”

 

“I missed you,” Will whispers and she barely bites back a gasp of relief. “A lot, actually.”

 

“I missed you, too,” she tells him. “For a long time. Since the gala, when everything got so turned upside down.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. He stares at her and she waits, wondering what he sees. “I think I spent so much time missing you that it was easier to just keep doing it when you were right here.”

 

Her chest cracks in two, hope shining through, warming her up from the inside out. This is more than she expected, more than she has a right to expect, and it has elation filling her to the brim. Amelia of the past would have let the moment slide, would have let herself secretly hope that things would work out on their own, but that’s earned her nothing other than misery and heartache. She’s not that person anymore. She’s done letting life slip past her.

 

Amelia sets down her coffee on the window ledge behind her and reaches out. She looks down to watch her fingers brush against the curve of his hand.

 

“Last night was awful,” she says. He nods in understanding, his hand inching toward her so that her fingers barely skirt his palm. “And last night was _wonderful_.”

 

Will starts. “What?”

 

“You held my hand,” she explains, looking at him from under her lashes. “And you made me smile. Just sitting with you made me happy, Will, in a way I think I’ve only ever been with you. As awful as parts of last night were, I’d go through it night after night if I could have the rest of it, too.”

 

He doesn’t believe her. That much shines clearly from his wary eyes. Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t understand how much he impacts her in the best way. Amelia bites the tip of her tongue - this is her fault. He doesn’t know because she’s never told him, has she? It’s a given for her. He’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to her and she needs him to know it. He deserves to.

 

“May I?” she asks, pointing at his cup.

 

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, taking it from his limp fingers and setting it next to her coffee. He watches her with a dumbfounded look on his face, and it only deepens when she tangles her fingers with his and cups his cheek with her free hand. He doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he just searches her eyes, trying to figure out what’s going on.

 

“All of my best memories are with you, Will,” she tells him. “And I’d like to make more.”

 

She leans in closer. His soft puffs of air dance over her skin and she slips her hand to the back of his neck, biting her lips as her fingers brush through his fine hair. Will’s other hand finds the curve of her waist, but the second he touches her he pulls back, like he’s not sure it’s supposed to be there. She shakes her head and angles her body closer, urging him to hold her. There are about a dozen layers of clothes between them, but that does nothing to diminish the heated bubble they create. The only place their skin meets is their hands and her fingers against his neck, fuel to the fire. Seconds pass where he does nothing, where anticipation makes her body tingle, her heart racing so fast it might leap out of her chest.

 

His hand finally finds her waist again and his fingers curl into the thick material of the coat she wears - _his coat_ \- as his gaze drops to her lips.

 

“Will…” she murmurs, stroking her thumb against the back of his neck as she leans in. His breath catches and his eyes flutter…

 

Amelia presses her lips to his.

 

Warmth races through her, a shiver falling down her spine, a flood of sensation breaking out across the surface of her skin. It’s soft, chaste, but it’s intense, a simmering burn of passion threatening to overtake them at any second. Will lets out a soft moan, his fingers tightening around her waist to pull her closer, and she melts into him.

 

 _This_ , she thinks. This is what she’s been missing all along. She could do this forever. She could live her whole life with chaste kisses and holding him just like this. She wants to cradle this fragile moment in her hands and keep it safe. It’s precious and perfect, everything she’s wanted, but thought she could never have.

 

When Will pulls back, she doesn’t move, not right away. Eyes still closed, her breathing a little too fast, she manages a low, “ _Oh_ ,” as her hand curls into the collar of his jacket, looking for an anchor to keep her upright. Her eyes flutter open, but the dazed feeling living in her veins gives way to a shock of excitement when she sees how wide his pupils have blown as he stares at her with an awed, hungry look.

 

She’s not ready when he cups her face with both hands and kisses her again.

 

Amelia moans into his mouth, her knees buckling.

 

He kisses her slowly, thoroughly, like nothing she’s ever experienced in her life. There’s no rush in it. It’s soft and firm all at once, hot and nearly chaste. Both of their lips part, his tongue caressing hers, just enough. It’s a taste, a hint of the other, and it’s all they need right now. They’re just a couple standing under a streetlamp on an empty frost-laden street with nothing more important in the world than each other. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible. She’s never had this. He isn’t trying to get her into bed, or push her into a relationship based on his terms. It’s about nothing other than this moment, this touch, this kiss, and it’s the most erotic thing she’s ever experienced. She feels cherished, drunk on him, more turned on than she’s ever been…

  
And so madly in love that she doesn’t know what to do with it.

 

The kiss ends slowly. Their lips stick together, his taste lingering on hers. He barely moves back as he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes drinking her in.

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for more than ten years,” he tells her in a thick voice that sends a bolt of desire straight to her core.

 

Amelia licks her lips, savoring the hints he’s left behind. “And?”

 

His eyes drop to her mouth and he mirrors her, his tongue darting out for a lingering taste. She barely bites back a moan at the sight. She’s wanted this man for a long, long time, but it’s different now. Watching him from afar and daydreaming has nothing on reality. She’s had a taste and there’s no going back.

 

“And my imagination was sorely lacking,” he replies.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, a smile spreading across her whole face.

 

“God, you’re beautiful when you smile like that,” Will says, dropping one hand to trace the corner of her lips as her smile widens. The warmth of contentment spreads through her as she leans into his palm.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever smiled like this with anyone but you,” Amelia tells him. He lets out a little astonished laugh and shakes his head in disbelief. “You don’t believe me?”

 

“I hope it’s not true,” he replies. “You should smile like that all the time. You should always be happy.”

 

Amelia gives him an impish grin. “Now that you’re back in my life, maybe I will.”

 

Will chuckles and shakes his head again. Astonishment, that’s what this is. He’s astonished any of this is happening.

  
She can relate.

 

“Listen,” she says, her hands sliding down to press into his chest. “I know this could get comp-”

 

Her phone lets out an insistent chirp just as Will’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

 

They both freeze. Well, she freezes and he stiffens, immediately understanding that both their phones going off can mean only one thing.

 

Amelia takes one hand off his chest and pulls her phone from her pocket, skimming the incoming text. Will doesn’t do the same, she realizes when she looks back up. He just stands there, a familiar tension and uneasy distance filling his eyes.

 

“They, uh… They need us,” she tells him, holding up her phone as evidence.

 

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice tripping on the word. He swallows hard and backing away from her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I figured.”

 

He’s pulling away, all the easiness of their moment together bleeding out as he puts his walls back up. She wants to stop time, to dial it back, to get _her_ Will back. Minutes ago he’d kissed her like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. But now he’s back to being so closed off he doesn’t even seem like the same person.

 

Desperation lances through her and Amelia steps back into his bubble, grabbing his wrist as she offers, “We could ride in together.”

 

He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t offer her his hand either.

 

“We both brought our cars,” he reminds her. “Might as well just go separately. Otherwise it’ll be a hassle later.”

 

“Oh. Right. Okay.”

 

Something about her countenance must jar him because he sighs, his shoulders falling before he offers her a small smile. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and grabs her hand, squeezing lightly as he cups her head and pulls her close to kiss her temple. It should be sweet and simple, quick and easy, but it’s anything other than that. He lingers, finally letting out a strained sigh into her hair before letting go.

 

“I’ll see you there,” he says and turns to head back to his car.

 

“Wait, Will,” Amelia blurts out, taking a stuttered step after him. He stops and looks back. “Are we okay?”

 

His pause is more devastating than his quiet, “Yeah, Amelia. We’re okay. We’re good.”

 

“Okay,” she says, clinging to it even though it feels like nothing. “Are we… What are we?”

 

Helplessness races through her as she waits for a response. What would he have said five minutes ago? Now, his brow furrows and he bites the tip of his tongue as he stares at her with a sad longing she can’t begin to understand.

 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “We should talk.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, swallowing back the feeling that everything’s slipping through her fingers. “Okay. Let’s see what they need and then… We can talk later? It’s not like either of us is going anywhere, right?”

 

Will gives her a tiny nod. “Right.”

 

He turns and walks away before she can respond. Amelia doesn’t budge, just watching him, her head spinning out of control as she wonders what the hell just happened.

 

It’s only when he disappears out of sight and she huddles a bit to get warm again that she realizes she’s still wearing his coat.


	7. Chapter 7

Will walks on autopilot to his car.

 

He can still taste her on his lips. The breathy little noise she made still rings in his ears. His fingers still tingle where he’d cradled her face in his hands.

 

It’s a miracle he doesn’t mow anyone down or run into anything, as he makes his way down the sidewalk. He doesn’t see the world around him. He doesn’t feel the cold air nipping at his nose, doesn’t notice his breath turning to steam right in front of him.

 

She’s all there is.

 

Will falls into his car, pulling the door shut behind him with numb fingers. He kissed Amelia. His eyes flutter shut, the press of her lips echoing in his mind. Will touches his mouth. He’s kissed more than his fair share of women over the years, even if there hasn’t been anyone in his life lately. He’s experienced every type of kiss someone can, but none of them compare to what just happened. It isn’t the lack of romance in his life that made his knees go weak. It’s not sleeping alone night after night that sent a shock of heat fanning out across his skin.

 

It’s her.

 

It was always going to be her. Nobody has ever made him feel like she does. That level of connection, of want and understanding... He’s never found it anywhere else. And he won’t. Because he loves her. Realization cuts into his chest, twisting beneath his ribcage. Will grimaces and closes his eyes. But he’s always loved her, hasn’t he? He’s not sure when it started, but he is sure that it’ll never end. She’s in his head, under his skin.

 

From the second he’d realized she intended to kiss him, he’d been rooted in place. Even though he knew a single taste would destroy him, there wasn’t any part of him that wanted her to stop.

 

Kissing her surpassed every single daydream he’s had over the last decade. And, for a brief moment, he’d let himself hope for a future.

 

“Damn it,” he breathes. Will swallows hard and slams his palms against the steering wheel. The impact reverberates up his arms, jarring him to the bone. So, he does it two more times for good measure. “Goddamn it.”

 

The second his mask slips, she’ll see exactly how fucked up he is. She’ll see all the ways he’s barely pieced himself back together and know that she deserves better.

 

He’s not the boy she traded looks with at a campsite ten years ago. He’s not the young man who won her stuffed daisies at the fair after she declined to join him. He’s not even the man who found her in a wrecked car on the side of the road and held her to keep her warm until the ambulance arrived. Those men died when he nearly bled out out on a museum floor.

 

What would she think if she knew how scarred he was, inside and out? How had she not tasted it when she closed the distance and breathed life into his cold lips?

 

The shock and thrill of it had his heart pounding so hard he’d almost felt alive again. Kissing her back had come as instinctively as breathing. Even though he knows he should regret it, a greedy part of him will hold that memory tight, cherishing it as the single most perfect moment he’s ever shared with a woman. They’ve danced around this thing between them for so long that it doesn’t feel entirely real. But there’s no denying that it was. Not when his whole body is still alight with residual sensation and the faint scent of her perfume still clings to his clothes.

 

But it can’t go anywhere.

 

Will lets out a choked laugh as his head thuds back against the seat.

 

So that’s that. It’s okay, though, if it means protecting her from his damage. So what if he’ll never get over her after holding her and kissing her as if he had all the time in the world to savor it? Who cares that she’ll haunt him? That he is hers, mind, body, and soul?

 

 _He cares_.

 

“Damn it,” he groans, pressing his palms to his eyes hard enough to see spots. It’s better this way. He doesn’t have much to offer a woman these days. He’s barely a functional firefighter, a caricature of who he used to be. All he amounts to now is a scarred body and a battered mind. Nightmares plague him most nights. The flashbacks might have faded in number over the months, but the ones he does get are brutal and terrifying, striking without warning. He’s a moody, reclusive bastard who snaps at people he cares about and shuts everyone out with a fake smile. Who the hell wants someone like that? He doesn’t even want to be around himself most of the time.

 

She deserves better than him.

 

Cold bites at his fingers and he finally starts the car.

 

At least he has something new to fill his nightmares. He can’t imagine the memory of her clinging to him and sighing against his lips will hurt any less than being run through with a crossbow bolt.

 

“Yeah, sure, why not,” he murmurs.

 

Will’s eyes stray to the street where he’d left her and his heart aches.

 

He told her he’d meet her at headquarters, but that’s the last place he wants to be right now. In one fell swoop, she’d shattered the wall he’d worked so damn hard to construct. He needs to rebuild it before he sees her again.

 

Will digs his phone out of his pocket and the screen lights up with the message telling everyone to get to the bunker. It’s not an emergency, because if it was Felicity wouldn’t have included a little smiley face at the end of the text.

 

He opens a separate message to his stepmother.

 

_WQ: can’t make it 2nite. i’ll check in tmrw._

 

Will tosses his phone onto the passenger seat before he can change his mind. Turning off auto-drive, he mans the car himself and heads back to his place. It’s in the opposite direction of the bunker. If Overwatch is at the lair, there’s no need for Brother to be present. And anything that comes up tonight can be relayed to him tomorrow. It’s okay that he’s not going. He’s not on the team. He’s just backup, a fill-in. He doesn’t need to be in the know about everything all the time. It’s fine that he’s going home.

 

Guilt creeps up his spine as he tells himself these things, rationalizing his decision every way he can.

 

He told Amelia that he’d see her there. He told her they’d talk. So what does he do? He runs.

 

Will bites the inside of his lip. God, if she could only see him right now, maybe she’d understand why starting anything between them could never work. It’s better this way.

 

The silence is deafening so he switches the radio on. He has no idea what he’s listening to, doesn’t really hear it at all, but it’s noise and that’s better than the bullshit in his head. Will grips the steering wheel tight. He can’t wait to get home, where his shitty sofa and the cheap bottle of amber liquid hiding beneath it wait for him.

 

His phone vibrates with a text, but he doesn’t hear it over the song.

 

It isn’t until he’s getting a call that he realizes someone is still trying to reach him.

 

With a low curse and a boulder sinking in his stomach, Will picks it up. A picture of Jules greets him. Turning the radio down, he flips on autodrive and answers. “What do you want, Jules?”

 

She replies with a huff. “I want to know why you don’t keep your phone connected to your car like a normal human being so you can see when someone texts you. I hope you’re not driving and talking to me like a complete numbnut.”

 

“What do you want, Jules?” Will repeats.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“I’m heading home.”

 

“Why?” Jules demands. “You’re talking to me, which means you clearly saw mom’s text.”

 

“It wasn’t an emergency-”

 

“No, but you’re gonna wanna be here for this. Trust me.”

 

Will’s heart stutters, and he doesn’t know if it’s from anticipation or dread. “For what?”

 

“Just get your ass here.”

 

She hangs up before he can respond. Will glares at his phone before tossing it back onto the passenger seat. What the hell is going on tonight? He’s begged off missions before. This isn’t new. But Jules summoning him to the lair on top of Felicity’s text in a clearly non-emergency situation? That isn’t an everyday occurrence.

 

There’s probably a family meeting of some sort. He doesn’t want to miss that. But then why would Amelia be called in, too?

 

Will taps the steering wheel. There’s no chance he’s going to shake off that kiss with Amelia. Going home and pretending it never happened won’t solve a damned thing, or make it easier. And, if he’s being honest with himself, he feels a little guilty just dropping her like he did. And, if he’s being even _more_ uncomfortably honest with himself, he does want to see her. Badly. And a huge part of him doesn’t care how much of a bad idea following this path is.

 

“Damn it,” Will breathes, flipping off auto-drive and wrenching the wheel to the side, turning his car toward the team’s headquarters.

 

Controlling the car himself does little to distract him from his thoughts, but it’s enough until he sees the parking structure that hides the bunker. Will almost hits the brakes and turns around at the sight of it. He’s being ridiculous and he is fully aware of that fact, not that his realization does anything to quell the anxious thrum radiating through his veins.

 

Will takes his time parking, struggling to keep the emotions that come along with seeing Amelia again at bay. He drags his feet about heading into the lair, something he considers fully understandable given the situation.

 

His sister doesn’t agree.

 

“It’s about damn time,” Jules scoffs the moment he appears. She grabs him by the elbow and drags him further into the room to stand with Alex. Most of the team is there, but none of the others say anything to him. “Nothing like making it here with seconds to spare. Whether you’ve got your head up your ass right now or not, you’d be super pissed if you missed this. You can thank me later.”

 

“What the hell are you ta-”

 

Amelia steps out of the locker room and the floor falls out from under him.

 

Somewhere in the background, Eric lets out a wolf whistle, but Will barely registers it. His entire world zeroes in on _her_ . The choked noise he makes is stuck somewhere between, _“God, yes,”_ and, _“Oh, hell no.”_ It’s probably best he can’t form words, he’ll think later, because who knows what would come out.

 

“Gotta admit, she kinda rocks that suit, doesn’t she?” Jules asks, grinning at his dumbfounded look.

 

Yes, she does. She really does. The skintight leather is white with gold edging throughout. She looks like the flash of light you see from the corner of your eye, there and then gone the next second. Quick and deadly. The lines are hard-edged, but they conform to her every curve in a way that leaves him utterly speechless. It’s the most erotic and terrifying thing he’s ever seen in his life.

 

Never once has Will watched her and not seen Amelia. Whether it’s sparring with Jules, or weapons training with Ellie, or talking to his father about how to better aim a bow. Training or not, she’s always been _Amelia._ Never once has he looked at her and thought, _“That’s a vigilante right there.”_

 

Not until now.

 

He’s never seen her in a mask before and it changes everything. Mostly because, as much as he’s never associated her with being a vigilante, her mask _fits_. It’s so Amelia that it carves him up from the inside out. Her hair’s pulled back into a tight ponytail, letting him see the details of her mask in all their glory. It’s more gold metal than leather, twisted in a seemingly delicate lace design that hides her identity beneath an ethereal presence. The edges look razor-sharp and he wonders if the mask serves as a weapon itself, as the corner catches the overhead lights.

 

Will can only blink. It’s her, but… It’s also more.

 

And it scares him to death.

 

“I think it fits okay,” Amelia says, her voice rife with uncertainty. It’s the polar opposite of the commanding image she presents. She smooths nervous hands down her stomach and over her cream-and-gold-leather-covered thighs before going back up. Her breasts are perfectly trapped in the corset, secure but hinting at their ample curvature. When her fingers brush across the bottom of her chest, he nearly stops breathing. “I don’t usually wear things this tight, though.”

 

That has him choking and her gaze flies to meet his.

 

Her eyes widen as if she didn’t know he was there. Which makes sense. He hadn’t been here when she first went in to try on her suit. And if he had been, he would’ve raised hell about her dressing up. He wouldn’t have been tongue-tied, staring at her like the only thing stopping him from crossing the room and kissing her senseless was the fact that they’re surrounded by his family.

 

“Will,” she mouths silently, her lips merely forming his name.

 

Even across the distance he can see her eyes softening. Her hands still rest over her stomach, her gloved fingers clenching slightly as her lips part. Those gorgeous damned lips are drenched in red right now, lips he tasted just a little bit ago. Her cheeks flush and he knows she’s remembering it, too.

 

He swallows hard.

 

What would she feel like pressed against him right now? She was all soft and gentle earlier, dressed in street clothes. That moment had been reserved for sweet kisses and quiet touches, for the realization of feelings and unearthing the past. But right now…

 

Right now he wants to cross the room and kiss her until she’s breathless as he slams her back against a wall.

 

Desire leaves him reeling. Wicked heat dances over his nerve endings in a heady mixture of lust and fear. How can something as seemingly innocuous as a leather suit threaten to send him to his knees with want while simultaneously strangling him with terror at what it represents?

 

He really shouldn’t have fucking come in tonight.

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Ellie says, breaking Amelia from her reverie. Her eyelids flutter as she looks toward the younger woman. Will doesn’t budge, though. His gaze is glued to Amelia and he only catches Ellie’s approving nod out of his peripheral vision. “Lookin’ sharp there, Providence.”

 

Will starts. Blood rushes through his ears as his attention snaps to his sister. “What?” he asks, his voice hoarse. His heart drops as he realizes what his sister’s words might mean. “Providence?”

 

It’s his father who answers.

 

“We thought it was an appropriate code name,” Oliver says. A clamor of white noise fills Will’s ears and he swallows hard, his jaw tightening. His dad nods to Amelia with a small smile. “Given how she showed up here in the first place. We all talked and agreed she’s been making good progress. Good enough to give her a trial run. And that’s what this is,” he reminds Amelia in a hard voice. “You need to show you can…”

 

The rest of his father’s words fade into indistinct chatter, drowned out by the rising sense of dread choking him in its grip.

 

It’s more than a trial run. She has a suit. She has a name.

 

She has a mask.

 

When the floor disappears out from under Will this time, it’s because he’s going to be sick to his stomach.

 

Panic races through his veins as his heart shatters under the weight of his father’s words. He shakes his head, his mouth working, but no sound coming out. Nothing can capture the scope of the horror dragging him under. Will forces his eyes back to Amelia. Everything he sees now is cast in shadows. If she doesn’t leave him because she realizes he’s got nothing to offer her, she’ll leave him in the worst way possible. He’ll be stuck on the comms, listening to her breathe her last breath. He’ll be sitting here, powerless to do anything when she gets taken down, when it’s too late for anyone to reach her. He won’t be able to do a damned thing as she dies.

 

He almost vomits right then and there.

 

“I can’t believe any of you think this is a good idea,” he chokes out. His words are for the whole room, but he only has eyes for Amelia. She blanches. “I can’t _believe_ you’re putting her on the team.”

 

“Will,” Amelia starts, stepping towards him. Her every move is smooth and controlled. If he hadn’t just seen her doubt, he would never have guessed that this was her first time putting on the suit.

 

His gut roils and he shakes his head. She doesn’t stop. And the closer she gets, the more detail he can see in her mask. It’s all gold filigree, like a high-end masquerade costume. Where a moment ago he’d marveled at how deadly it looked, now it seems incredibly fragile. The only thing keeping the sharp edges from slicing her skin is a small layer of padding, but that’s it. A thin wall between her and death. He gasps at the thought and Amelia reaches for him. He shakes his head before she can touch him, though. And she slowly pulls her hand back.

 

“You have to let me prove myself,” she says. “I can _do_ this. I’ve worked for it.”

 

A broken laugh almost escapes him. She believes that. He knows she does. But she’s been training for five months. His sisters have spent their whole _lives_ entrenched in this mess. Sara too. Yes, Alex hit the streets in far less time. So had Eric. But there’s one glaring difference between them and Amelia.

 

He’s in love with her.

 

There’s a darkness that encircles all of their lives that hasn’t been a factor in most of hers. And he doesn’t want it to be. She’s too good for this, for any of it. Why does she insist on choosing this path? There are so many other options for her. Why _this?_

 

“Amelia,” Will whispers, his voice cracking. She stares at him and he sees that same hope he saw earlier on the street after they kissed. It breaks his heart. Will shakes his head with a rough, “You never should have walked through that door. You should never have looked for us in the first place.”

 

She flinches.

 

“I lied earlier,” he continues. “When I said we were okay. We’re not. Because you want to go out there and put your life on the line and I can’t… I have to sit here and watch you die on the monitors where I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

 

She flinches again, but it’s immediately replaced with a steely look. But it does nothing to undermine the tremble in her voice as she says, “You could have a little faith in me, you know.”

 

“It’s not _you_ ,” Will snaps, the words echoing through the room. “It’s everything _but_ you. How can you not see that? It’s every criminal out there who won’t have any idea how much worse the world would be without you in it. And everyone in this goddamn room who seems so ready to throw you in the line of fire.”

 

“Hey,” Jules bites out. Alex places a hand on her back, but it does little to dampen her annoyance. “Cool it a little, would you? No one’s treating this like a game. She’s not expendable to us either.”

 

“You know I’d never send her out there if I didn’t think she was ready,” his father adds, giving him a heavy look. “You _know_ that, Will.”

 

“What I know,” Will insists, wheeling around to shoot daggers at Oliver, “is that you’re wrong. I know she’s _Amelia_ , not Providence, and letting her think otherwise is going to get her killed.”

 

But as Amelia or Providence, her perfume is still the same. It fills his senses as she steps into his personal space and touches his cheek, urging him to cast his eyes back at her. He fights her, bowing his head. He doesn’t want to look at her again. He doesn’t want to see his Amelia in that suit. But he’s so damned powerless to her gentle touch. Will closes his eyes, her scent washing over him, before he looks back, his gaze meeting hers.

 

Nothing he can say will change her mind.

 

“Amelia,” he tries again, but she stops him with a quiet, “Will.”

 

She strokes his cheek as she offers him a pained smile, a silent plea in her eyes asking him for understanding. But he can’t give her that.

 

He doesn’t even notice everyone around them turning away, giving them a moment.

 

“I will always come back,” she tells him.

 

A broken laugh breaks free this time. “No,” Will replies, cupping her face. “No, you can’t promise that. We’ve been lucky, Amelia. That’s all. Vigilantes die. And if you can’t recognize that’s a risk every time you put on the mask, then you… You _aren’t_ ready, Amelia. You aren’t...”

 

Will chokes on the rest of what he has to say. He wants to shout that she doesn’t get it. But the words won’t come. He holds her tighter, roughly brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, willing her to understand. The sharp edge of her mask catches his thumb on one pass. The cut it leaves is shallow, but enough that a bead of blood floods to the surface and smears over her cheek.

 

The sight of the bright red against her skin hollows him.

 

In the blink of an eye, he’s back in the art museum. But instead of her wearing an elegant gown as she had in his dream, she’s wearing her suit. The blood is still there, though. “No,” Will breathes, wiping it away. His touch is too hard, but he doesn’t care. He needs the blood to be gone. The smear disappears, but he doesn’t stop, even as she frowns at him, saying his name again. All his mind’s eye sees is more red. So much blood he chokes.

 

Amelia forcefully cups his face and it jerks him back to reality.

 

The bunker comes back in a rush, leaving him gasping. It grounds him. More than he wants it to, but it does. He clings to it, to _her_. And the fight drains out of him. He’s so worn, so _tired_. Her presence alone calms him, but her touch…

 

Will sighs out some of the strain, his eyes slipping shut for a moment as the heat from her hands spreads out across his skin.

 

“Have faith, Will,” Amelia says, stroking his jawline. “In me. In the fact that I have a purpose, that there’s a reason I’m here. Have faith in the knowledge that you and I were always meant to be more than we are right now... I do.”

 

Fear squeezes his chest until he thinks he might explode.

 

“I don’t have the faith you do,” Will tells her. Can’t she see there’s no guarantees? Doesn’t she realize that the path she’s following is taking her right into darkness? His hands fall away. “My mom would’ve. But she died nine years ago tomorrow, leaving me and her infant daughter behind. I’m sure she felt like she was meant for more, too.”

 

Amelia’s fingers falter. He watches her as she fights to find something to say, but there’s nothing. Instead she nods, her gaze dropping to the hollow of his throat for a beat before she finds his eyes again.

 

“I’ll just have to have enough faith for both of us then,” Amelia says.

 

“No,” Will gasps, clenching his jaw. “ _Amelia_.”

 

She gives him a sad smile before pressing her lips to his cheek. He damned near falls into her, grabbing her waist. When all he feels is leather beneath his fingertips, he flinches like he’s been burned.

 

“I know I’m not supposed to,” Amelia whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear, “but I’m going to say it anyway. I promise I’ll come back to you, Will. You’re worth fighting to get back to.”

 

No, he’s not. That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? He’s not worth fighting for, not even close. And if she’s banking on that to save her out in the field? An icy wall of terror drenches him at the thought of when she figures that out. It’s not just about her leaving him, about her realizing she deserves better. It’s about her losing a reason to make it home safe and sound.

 

He tries to tell her, but the strangled noise gets caught in his throat instead, as she lets him go and steps away.

 

“Let’s head out,” Oliver says.

 

Will’s head snaps to his father. “ _Now_ ?” he chokes out. “You’re taking her out _now_?”

 

“Just a patrol,” Ellie assures him. “It’s barely more dangerous than a stroll through the city at night.”

 

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Will demands. “I’ve seen the crime rates lately.”

 

“Hey,” Jules snaps, although it sounds more like a growl that silences the entire room. But instead of blowing up, she takes a slow breath before giving him a more somber look than he’d expected. “Listen. We’re a team, right? That means we have each other’s backs. I get why you’re worried, Will. But, it’s not just her you’re doubting right now. It’s all of us. It’s me. So cool off, sit down, and stop stressing her out _more_. You might’ve only suited up once, but I’m pretty sure you have an idea of how nervous she is. So stop making it worse.”

 

Will pauses. The idea that he’s putting her in more danger because he’s piling his shit on her is too much. It’s yet another reason that she deserves better. He gives his sister a short nod, stepping back.

 

Alex casts him a sympathetic look. “We got her back, man. You’ve got my word. No way any of us are gonna let somethin’ happen to her if we can help it.”

 

It’s the idea that maybe they _can’t_ that haunts him. But he can’t quite make himself voice that to Alex. Instead, he nods sharply in silent acceptance as he blinks too hard and his jaw goes tense enough that it feels like he might crack his teeth.

 

“You suited up?” Amelia asks quietly, shifting his attention back to her. “As a vigilante?”

 

“Once,” he replies, shrugging in his jacket. It’s suddenly a little too tight. “A long time ago. They had Dad. John and Lyla were out of town. Someone had to save him... Not an experience I’d like to repeat.”

 

“Oh,” she says.

 

“Saved my life that night,” his father reminds him. Oliver sidles up next to him and clamps a hand on his shoulder. “You might’ve hated it, but when the chips are down, you’ve always done right by the people you care about. Even if it’s not what you want to do.”

 

The heavy-handed statement has Will scowling at him.

 

Jules huffs out a low laugh. “Pretty sure Amelia was more focused on picturing him in a mask with head-to-toe leather than the actual vigilante part.”

 

Will turns to glare at his sister for that, but his eyes catch the way Amelia’s cheeks turn pink. It reminds him of how she looked standing in the cold with him beneath the streetlamp.

 

Mask or not, he loves her regardless.

 

He just isn’t convinced that’s a good thing.

 

“I’ll be on the comms,” Felicity informs the group. “Let’s have a careful, productive and relatively easy night, shall we?”

 

Jules rolls her eyes with an exaggerated, “Yes, mother.”

 

“No Digg and Lyla?” Ellie asks.

 

“They’re taking the night off,” Sara tells her.

 

Oliver barely pauses before adding, “We don’t need them for this.”

 

What his father doesn’t say is, _“They’re in their 60s and jumping off of rooftops is hard for them now.”_ Will’s pretty sure Ellie doesn’t get that, though. He wonders how long it will take her to realize they aren’t joining on missions as much. What will happen when his dad starts pulling back? When Felicity doesn’t come in as often? Oliver isn’t a whole lot younger than Lyla. It’s bound to happen that they spend less and less time in the bunker. It’s not exactly a secret that their father and Felicity are the only ones who keep Ellie in check around here. Will would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried what she would do as a vigilante without her parents’ steadying hands.

 

But then again, what doesn’t he worry about these days?

 

“Will, you wanna join me on the comms?” Felicity tilts her head to the bay of computers. “I’ll even let you eat buttered popcorn. But just this once.”

 

There’s no way in cold hell he’s going to let Amelia go out into the field without him watching over her. The only thing worse than knowing that she’s out there would be knowing that she’s doing it without the most backup he can offer her.

 

Will nods and Felicity gives him a warm smile before heading to the kitchen. He’s pretty sure he couldn’t eat anything right now if he tried, but he also knows it will be comforting. And he needs comforting at the moment. He turns toward the center of the room, but a hand grabbing his stops him short.

 

His heart trips all over itself as he looks back to find Amelia watching him with a question in her eyes. His heart pounds even harder at the sight, his fingers instinctively curling around hers.

 

“I know you feel like you can’t do anything from here,” she tells him. “But I’ll feel better knowing you’re keeping an eye out for me.”

 

“I always will,” he replies, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I mean, that’s where I’ll always be.”

 

Amelia offers him a tiny smile. “Not sure I can get myself to call you ‘Brother,’ though.”

 

“That’s my role,” Will says ruefully. “It’s who I am.”

 

“You’re a lot more than that, Will,” she says, stroking her thumb against his before letting go. “You always have been.”

 

Will forces a smile that he’s pretty sure she only pretends to buy, before she turns to join the rest of the team. They head out of the lair in a group, leaving him and Felicity behind without another word. The distinct click of heels alerts him to his stepmother’s presence. That, and the smell of buttered popcorn slowly filling the air.

 

“Smart girl you’ve got there,” Felicity tells him. He sighs and she links her arm with his. “Come on.”

 

They sit down side-by-side, Overwatch and Brother, both of them slipping comms in their ears.

 

“You ready for this?” Felicity asks.

 

“No,” Will answers honestly, adjusting the monitors so he can watch Providence and the others as they head out of the parking garage toward the crime-ridden streets of Starling City. “Not even a little.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, Will throws himself into work.

 

He keeps in touch with Beth all day, making sure he’s there in case she needs to talk. But other than that, he wraps himself up in mundane tasks. A lingering hangover pounds behind his eyes, but he powers through it. He volunteers to take Sara’s shift cleaning up the truck. She seems surprised by the offer, but he’s not sure why. He’s like this every year on the anniversary of his mom’s death. After he finishes that task, he heads upstairs to help Alex with paperwork. He goes, goes, goes until he drops, not leaving any time to focus too much on his thoughts. That’s the core of what has him tied up in knots today.

 

But his fear and confusion about Amelia is in there somewhere, too.

 

Will had known the second he agreed to stay last night that it was going to be difficult. But nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it. Never in his life has he been more frustrated with the state of this city than while watching Felicity try to follow the team only to run into one broken security camera after another. They caught sight of their vigilante team every once in a while, but the group slipped in and out of view like shadows. It hadn’t been nearly enough.

 

Especially when they’d stumbled onto a group of gun traffickers.

 

Listening to the action without seeing the fight had been torture. The only thing that had kept Will in his chair had been his white-knuckled grip on the seat and the painful grind of his clenched jaw. Thank God Felicity had been there to react and respond because the only thing he’d concentrated on was discerning which sounds came from Amelia.

 

When the fight had shifted out onto a street, Felicity had let out a bright, “Ah, that one works!” before the screen lit up with the grainy view of a street corner. At first, they hadn’t seen anything. Then, without warning, a body thrown against a wall had splashed across the corner of the screen. It was quickly followed by a pained cry that he would recognize anywhere.

 

He vaguely remembers shooting to his feet and shouting into the comms. But it had all been a blur. Until Amelia moved. Looking back, Will’s sure she was down for barely two seconds before hauling herself up and throwing herself back into the fight. It would have been an impressive rebound, save for the fact that he’d been choking on his heart the entire time.

 

Leaving the lair before the team got back had been pure self-preservation. Facing her again would’ve been more than he could have handled last night. His first instinct would have been to rip that fucking suit off and catalogue every single bruise and scratch before spending as much time as she allowed soothing each one. But he couldn’t do that to her. He _wouldn’t_. Which had meant getting the hell out of there as soon as possible.

 

To say she muddles his head is an understatement. He needs distance to remind himself of all the reasons he can’t be with her.

 

Will sighs as he fixes a formatting mistake in the report on the screen before him.

 

“Appreciate the hand, Vato, but if you wanna bow out, I get it,” Alex says when Will clicks into another report. “Somethin’ tells me you could use some rest.”

 

“I’m not tired,” Will replies. _Lie._ He’s exhausted, but the thought of trying to catch a nap in the bunk room and waiting for the dreams to come keeps him glued in his seat. He tries again. “I’m fine.”

 

Alex hums under his breath, rubbing at his nose before scratching behind his ear. He doesn’t get back to work. Instead he watches Will. It’s unsettling. Alex sees him better than most and there’s nothing Will wants less right now than to be seen.

 

“Your sister scares the shit out of me, you know,” Alex tells him.

 

An amused quirk tugs at Will’s lips. “Yeah, well, she can be kinda terrifying when she wants to be... And when she doesn’t want to be. Pretty sure I warned you about that _before_ you started dating her.”

 

His friend chuckles and shakes his head before leaning back in his chair. “Nah, it ain’t that. I actually kinda love it when she’s scary like _that_. She’s like an angry kitten that’s all claws.”

 

“First of all,” Will says, “I’m gonna do you a favor and never tell her you said that. Secondly, I’m pretty sure you’re a bit of a masochist.”

 

“She’s a force of nature,” Alex continues. “Sometimes I gotta sit back and watch her, just to take it all in. But it’s scary as shit, man. There ain’t a day goes by that I don’t worry about her gettin’ hurt. But she wouldn’t be my Julianna if she wasn’t doin’ this. And it’s a helluva thing to have a front row seat watchin’ her get more powerful and grow into a better version of herself.”

 

Will sets his jaw and stares blindly at the screen. Alex is about as subtle as a firehose to the face. He doesn’t reply, instead running his index finger over the small cut on his hand from Amelia’s mask.

 

The silence lingers far too long before Alex finally breaks it.

 

“How about you at least give your girl a text, huh?”

 

“She’s not my girl,” Will bites back.

 

“Bullshit,” Alex counters, pushing back his chair to stand. “An’ if you’d seen the look on her face last night when she got back to headquarters and found you’d left, you’d know that.”

 

Despite himself, Will grimaces.

 

“She’s your girl whether you like it or not, Vato,” Alex says. “You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to know it.”

 

Will digs his teeth into his tongue to keep still. He wants to fight him, tell him that it’s not true, not if she wants to have the kind of life she deserves. But a small part of him wants to _agree_. Because he wants it to be true so very badly.

 

His shoulders fall on a heavy sigh and he buries his face in his hands. His heart’s pulling him down a path that his head is telling him he can’t tread. But when he hits the pause button, in that split second where he doesn’t think, all he wants to do is put one foot in front of the other.

 

Right toward Amelia.

 

Until his brain kicks in and he finds himself right back at square one, guilt and shame drowning him all over again.

 

“Text her,” Alex repeats. It sounds like an order. “If only ‘cause she doesn’t deserve to feel like shit because you bailed.”

 

Will’s breath catches. No matter what a mess he is, she doesn’t ever deserve to feel like that.

 

“Yeah,” he answers in a dry voice.

 

“I’m gonna get coffee.” Alex claps him on the shoulder and squeezes before stepping out of the room. He walks right past the full pot sitting on the counter less than six feet away. Will snorts. His friend’s subtlety is non-existent.

 

Clicking his phone on, the wallpaper photo of him and Bethy on a camping trip two summers ago stares back at Will. It’s a gut punch every time he sees it, showing him everything he’s lost, everything he _was_ that disappeared after he nearly died. He should change it, but he never does. And he probably never will. Seeing himself healthy, happy and whole is a reminder that, in spite of everything, he’s still Beth’s big brother and the most important person in her life outside of her dad. It’s one of the few things he’s still comfortable holding on to.

 

It’s also a wonderful distraction from doing what he picked up his phone to do.

 

His fingers hover over the screen for a long moment before he finally opens up his texts. His heart stutters at his history with Amelia. The last thing there is a message from yesterday about him running late for coffee.

 

It’s a hell of a thing to follow up.

 

_WQ: hey_

 

He stares at the simple word, telling himself to erase it. Instead, he hits send.

 

Three little dots immediately pop up and his stomach drops in a mixture of anticipation and dread. He chews on his lips, staring at the dots. Waiting. It takes forever.

 

_AP: Hi. How are you?_

 

_WQ: ok_

 

He hits send after each thought before he can second guess himself.

 

_WQ: working_

 

_WQ: i’m glad everything went ok last night_

 

_AP: Me too. Thank you for being there to watch over me._

 

He sighs. Will can perfectly envision how she’d look saying that out loud to him. Her fingers would brush against his in nervous invitation or she’d grab his sleeve or touch his cheek. And there’s absolutely no doubt that he’d melt with any of those scenarios. She softens him in a way he can’t describe, and he doesn’t even hate it. He _craves_ it. She’s a port in the storm, bringing him balance and peace, momentary as it is.

 

Amazingly, it’s the peace that scares him the most.

 

Will sighs again, his shoulders collapsing under the weight of his thoughts. He’s so tired of being scared.

 

_AP: Are you coming in tomorrow?_

 

How a text can sound nervous is beyond him.

 

_WQ: no. beth & i have plans the next 2 days. won’t be in unless there’s something big _

 

So what was the point of messaging her then, he asks himself with an annoyed huff. He sends a lame afterthought.

 

_WQ: just wanted 2 say hi_

 

_AP: Hi. :)_

 

His heart flutters and he wonders if the smile he sees in his mind is one she’s actually wearing.

 

_AP: And alright. I hope you two enjoy your time together. I know it’s bittersweet right now. I’m always here if you want to talk, Will. Give Bethy my best._

 

Will swallows hard. _I always want to talk to you. I love you. I don’t deserve this. You’re too good for me. I don’t want to stay away from you. Please never leave._

 

But he can’t say any of that.

 

_WQ: thx gtg ttyl_

 

_AP: Bye._

 

He pockets his phone before he can send anything else and drops his head on his crossed arms against the desk. Did that help anything, or make it worse? And what is he supposed to do next? Because everything he wants is everything he won’t get if the night before was any indication.

 

Will dives back into work, attacking the reports with a vigor that’s entirely unnecessary.

 

He gets through the rest of his shift, and even manages a few naps along the way that are blissfully dream-free. When he gets home a little before seven in the morning, he tries to pass out for a few more hours. Nightmares wait for him, though, and he wakes up shaking in a cold sweat. Wisps of images haunt him, not fully formed but not fading entirely either. He doesn’t bother trying to sleep again. Instead he winds up on his sofa, digging out the bottle of amber liquid from beneath it and picking up the closest tumbler. It’s sticky with whisky from the night before, but he still uses it, pouring a couple fingers and turning the television on.

 

The dull hum of mindless infomercials eventually disappears in a numb haze of liquor and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

 

His phone vibrating with text messages rouses him from the darkness several hours later, Beth reminding him that he’s picking her up from school in a few hours.

 

That propels him into action.

 

It’s easier with Beth around. He has a purpose when he’s with her. She needs him, even if it’s in a very mundane way. She’s ten, after all, not two. But she’s still his to take care of and that gives him something he sorely needs.

 

Will spends nearly every waking moment of the next two days with his youngest sister. He even volunteers at her school on the second day, helping out with organizing some fundraiser. Things almost feel back to normal, such as they are, by the end of that. Despite the lack of sleep, he’s prepared and happy to get back to work.

 

But no matter what he does, he can’t clear Amelia from his head.

 

A mixture of the way she’d looked at him on the sidewalk after their kiss and the hurt look in her eyes beneath her mask taunts him. She’d been so different both times, but the one thing that hadn’t changed was how she looked at him. He wants that again. He wants to be the center of her focus, with all that intensity zeroed in on him. And he wants to see her smile. He wants to be the reason _why_ she smiles. The idea of holding her close and breathing her in as her hair brushes against his shoulder and her nose skims his is intoxicating. He wants to linger in that space where he could easily lean in and kiss her whenever he wanted. But as much as he craves that, he can’t ignore the tiny voice in his head whispering, “ _But do you deserve it? Why would she stay?”_

 

The vicious cycle is all that runs through his head. It chases him after work, through the few hours of sleep he manages, and all the way to the lair.

 

It’s barely noon when he arrives at Arrow headquarters.

 

Logically he knows nobody is there, but the disappointed pang he feels when he sees he’s truly alone is pathetic. How can he yearn for her while simultaneously doing everything in his power to avoid her?

 

Still, it is nice having the room to himself. There’s no competition for workout equipment, no one he has to make small talk with. He loves his family more than anything, but he needs time with only himself, his thoughts, and a punching bag, too. Will changes before wrapping his hands carefully.

 

And then it’s just him and the bag. He sets a fast, steady pace that gets his heart pumping and lets his mind get lost in the rhythm.

 

Time slips by unnoticed. His arms grow heavy and sweat slickens his skin, but he only pauses when it drips in his eye. With a grunt, Will grabs the bottom of his shirt and wipes his face off.

 

Someone gasps.

 

Will inhales sharply, freezing mid-motion. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is. He’s far too attuned to mistake her for anyone else. He’d know her anywhere. In a crowd at a ballgame. Covered in powder from an airbag. Standing with a phone held high in victory in the middle of an office. Anywhere.

 

“Oh,” she whispers.

 

He finally looks at her, realizing a second too late that his shirt is still in his hands, exposing the garish scar slashed across his abdomen. His gut clenches and his hands start to shake. The one time time anybody outside of his family or doctors had seen it ended in disaster and the thought of that same look on Amelia’s face has his insides twisting into a knot.

 

Will ducks his head. “Sorry,” he mutters, tugging his shirt back down.

 

“No,” Amelia insists, reaching out to him as she joins him on the mat before re-thinking and pulling her hand back.

 

Heart clenching, he glances at her from under a couple stray strands of sweaty hair. “No?”

 

“I mean…” Amelia shrugs, giving him a nervous smile. “Okay…”

 

“No and okay are two very different ideas, Amelia,” Will replies, forcing himself to smile. His face feels stiff. “It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just get out of your way.”

 

“ _No_ ,” she blurts.

 

“Does that mean ‘okay’ this time, too?” he asks, going for funny but missing it by a mile.

 

“No, of course not,” Amelia says in exasperation. “It means you don’t have to leave for me. And… And you don’t have to hide your scar from me, either.”

 

Will wants to know if she really means it, but his eyes dart away before he can see the truth. “Thanks,” he says, offering her another tight smile as he steps around her. “I appreciate that, but I know how it looks.”

 

“It looks like you survived.”

 

He stops.

 

The only sound is the squeak of her bare feet on the mats as she spins to him. He doesn’t turn to face her. He can’t. Will bows his head against a groundswell of hope that traitorously boils up. He can’t escape the feeling that he’s treading dangerous waters right now and the only way to keep his head above it is to walk away.

 

He doesn’t move.

 

“Doesn’t make it pretty,” he rasps.

 

“You’re wrong,” Amelia replies. He flinches like she hit him. She doesn’t take it back, though, as she moves to stand before him. “It means that you’re _here_ , Will.”

 

His breaths are ragged as she steps closer. It’s too close, he tries to tell himself. But there’s no such thing. Not with her. Her presence is a balm that makes him gasp for air, especially when he sees her hand reaching for his midsection. His gut recoils on instinct, but all he does is watch her. She moves so slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop her if he wants to. Her soft breaths dance over the crown of his head, setting his nerves on fire. It’s a heady sensation as every ounce of his awareness coils up in twisted anticipation of her touch. He shouldn’t want her near that part of him. He should be stopping her. But he does want it, he realizes with a sick feeling.

 

The tips of her fingers brush against his shirt right over the upper crest of his jagged scar.

 

Will’s eyes slam shut as she traces her fingers down the knotted line of flesh. He fights to think, to remember where they are, but all he feels is her gentle caress. It takes his breath away, sweeping him up in the quiet storm of sensation she leaves in her path.

 

“And I think that’s a beautiful thing,” Amelia whispers.

 

Her words crack him in two and Will grabs her hand. He doesn’t pull her away, but he does squeeze her fingers in his as he finally looks up, meeting her eyes. He can’t hide the thin desperation under his jerky gaze as he searches for anything that might contradict what she’s saying.

 

There’s only acceptance.

 

Will shakes his head. “It’s a mess,” he croaks.

 

“Isn’t it supposed to be?” she asks and he stiffens. Amelia tightens her hand around his. “It’s proof you’re _here_ , Will. That scar is proof you fought for it and that’s always going to be messy. How can it not be? But who ever said that was a bad thing?”

 

The look on his face is all she needs to see.

 

“It was a woman, wasn’t it?” Amelia asks.

 

A sardonic laugh escapes him and he wipes his mouth as he nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “About a year ago. Someone I used to date. I was lonely and I called her up and she was…” The rueful edge fades from his voice as the memory of that night surfaces. “She was pretty horrified, actually.”

 

The words rip out of him and Will bows his head before he can see the look on Amelia’s face. The last thing he’s ever wanted from her is pity, and he knows that what he just admitted is just begging for it.

 

As the silence drags on, Will closes his eyes and opens his mouth to tell her she can go…

 

“Can I see it again?” Amelia asks, the words so incredibly soft. Will goes very still. “Please?”

 

He wants to say no. He wants to be that strong, to protect himself, but he isn’t. Not with her.

 

Will gives her a short nod. Amelia pulls away just enough for him to yank his shirt up. He tugs it off entirely, fighting to keep his breathing even. He can’t look at her, not yet, so he concentrates on where to leave his shirt. He can’t even remember the last time he’d had it off down here, he realizes with shaky hands. There’s a chill in the air that bites at his sweat-dampened skin as he finally just tosses the damn shirt on a nearby weight bench.

 

He fixes his gaze on the ground, vividly aware of Amelia as she steps closer.

 

When her fingers graze his bare skin, he lets out a sharp exhale. His eyes slip shut for a split second, but then she touches more of him, stroking the ugly gash. And ugly it is. Will looks down, watching her hand. He can’t understand what he’s seeing. Oh, he understands the nature of his flesh. He avoids looking at it as much as possible, but that doesn’t erase the reality of it.

 

The crossbow bolt had entered his body at an angle. And when they’d fought to stop the bleeding, their efforts had torn not only through his insides, but his skin as well. The surgical scars are thinner, but no less vicious, casting a fractured web across his midsection. He looks like he’s been eviscerated. In a lot of ways, he was. But with her touching him like this…

 

For so long, it’s been numb, his skin cold to the touch when he accidentally grazes it.

 

Right now, it’s on fire.

 

Will struggles to catch his breath as he watches her fingers. She trails down one side of the scar before dragging back up the opposite edge. Every touch sends sharp bolts of sensation whispering over the surface of his skin, making his palms hot and itchy. His heart races, and it stumbles when she presses her whole hand to his scar.

 

“Do I look horrified to you?” she asks.

 

Will looks back at her. Her skin flushed, her pupils wide, her lips parted. Her soft breaths dance over him and he shivers. Goosebumps erupt over his chest, along the edges of his scar, chasing her fingers away. She only presses closer, her fingers flexing, her nails biting into his skin. The low thrum of desire he’s done a damn admirable job of keeping at bay bursts to life in the pit of his stomach.

 

“No,” he admits, the word coming out in rough whisper.

 

“Good,” she says. His eyes drop to her lips at the sound of her voice. “Because I’m not. At all. That woman was a fool. And you deserve better.” She pauses and looks down at her fingers where she grazes back down his scar. “Was she there? At the hospital, I mean. Was she there when you woke up?”

 

“No.”

 

Amelia purses her lips. “Was anyone?” she asks, looking back up at him.

 

“No,” he repeats, barely above a whisper. “No one like that.”

 

She nods, looking back down at her hand. The move sends a wave of her lingering perfume towards him and he greedily breathes it in.

 

“I wanted to be,” Amelia tells him. “I thought about getting in my car and driving to Starling so many times.”

 

“I honestly can’t tell you how I would’ve handled that.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, her hand faltering before she pulls it away. It takes everything in him to stop himself from snatching it back. “I guess if I’d wanted to be there, I should’ve earned a spot at your side before that.”

 

Will furrows his brows. “What are you talking about?”

 

Amelia gives him a ragged sigh and a sad smile. “Walking away from you was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And I did it over and over and over again. I can’t blame you for not wanting me there.”

 

“Amelia… I thought you were married,” he reminds her. “And I was… I thought I was gonna die.” Her face crumples and she opens her mouth to say something, but he stops her. “I did. It’s just a fact, that’s all. And then when I knew I was gonna make it, I couldn’t do a damn thing for myself. I hurt all the time. Sitting up was hard. Walking meant using a cane and I felt about a million years old using that fucking thing. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t help my family. I couldn’t do _anything_. Hell, I was on so many pain medications that I don’t even really remember those first few weeks.”

 

She bites her lip, her hand fluttering toward him before she changes her mind and retracts her fingers. “That’s why I wanted to be there.”

 

“There is no part of me that wanted you playing my nursemaid,” Will tells her. “The last thing I… I never want you seeing me as weak or helpless, and I… I _was_. I…”

 

“Will,” Amelia interrupts, grabbing his arm in a sure grip. “Strength isn’t just lifting weights and throwing a punch. Sometimes it’s taking four steps when the day before you could only take two.”

 

He huffs. “It’s kinda hard to see it that way when the week before you were running up a flight of stairs without breaking a sweat.”

 

Amelia rolls her eyes. “See?” she asks, nudging his shoulder. “That’s why you needed me there.”

 

_That’s not the only reason._

 

When Will doesn’t reply right away, she gives him a coy smile before turning to grab tape for her hands. He watches her every move, especially when she bends over to pick up the roll. The newly defined muscles in her back shift with her as she starts wrapping her hands in a quick, easy motion.

 

How the hell did he ever think he could stay away from her?

 

“You’re here now,” he points out.

 

Amelia glances at him over her shoulder. Her eyes travel up and down his body in a slow crawl that makes his stomach clench. She’s definitely not focused on his scar. A bolt of masculine pride hits him. He’s worked damn hard to get back in shape and as far as he can possibly get from the guy who spent months wasting away on his sofa. She’ll never see that version of him, if he has anything to say about it.

 

“I am,” she agrees with a half-smile.

 

“You came here to train?” Will asks, taking in her sweats and the sports bra hiding under her tank.

 

“I worked from home this morning,” Amelia replies. “No meetings for a few hours. It seemed like a good use of time.”

 

“So make even better use of it,” he challenges before he can stop the words. She pauses in her hand-wrapping and a tiny voice in his head whispers, _“Fuck it.”_ He tilts his chin up at her. “Forget the bag. It doesn’t fight back.”

 

Amelia blinks. “You want to spar with me?”

 

“We’re both here,” Will says as nonchalantly as he can, adding in a shrug. He almost believes it himself. He offers her a crooked smile. “Think you can take me?”

 

She bites the tip of her tongue between her her teeth as she narrows her eyes at him. “I’d definitely like to try.”

 

The look on her face has desire whipping through him so hard and fast his knees nearly give out.

 

_Get a grip, Queen._

 

Will clears his throat. “Hand-to-hand?”

 

“You really think you’re going to be able to throw a punch at me?” Amelia asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

Will chuckles. “No, I can’t,” he acquiesces. “Staves, then.”

 

Amelia nods, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “Aim to disarm?”

 

He’s momentarily distracted by her rising breasts before he forces his eyes away. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

 

“Alright.” She grabs two practice staves from the wall and tosses him one. “I’ve never seen you with a bō.”

 

“I’m good with it,” Will warns her, snatching the staff with one hand. He spins it in an easy motion that’s all flash. “I might usually stick to the punching bag and the weights, but my dad had a stick in my hands starting in elementary school.”

 

Amelia frowns.

 

Will tilts his head at her. “You object.”

 

“It’s just… That’s a lot of weight to put on a kid,” she replies. “It just seems like it must have impacted your chance to have a childhood. Kids deserve that.”

 

“Think of it like karate,” he tells her. “With a little more expectation for practical use. Being my father’s son has always come with risks, Arrow or not.”

 

She concedes the point with a shrug, but he can tell she isn’t convinced.

 

“Amelia, I promise I had a childhood. A great one.”

 

“I bet you were a cute kid,” she says, leaning against the end of her staff. “With those eyes and that smile. I bet you were trouble and absolutely adorable about it.”

 

Will wrinkles his nose at her. “Are we going to spar, or are you gonna flirt with me all day?”

 

“I can’t do both?” Amelia asks with a broad grin as she straightens back up.

 

“And you think _I_ was trouble.”

 

“Well, I never said I wasn’t.” She bites her bottom lip and raises an eyebrow at him as she twirls the stick in her hands. “Do I get to try and pin you now or what?”

 

“Not if I pin you first.”

 

“I look forward to you trying,” Amelia taunts.

 

The fact that he’s openly flirting with her gets swept away as she fixes her stance and nods in indication for him to do the same.

 

She’s going to be the death of him.

 

_What a way to go._

 

The fight itself starts with keen awareness and careful attention. They circle each other, offering test attacks, each feeling the other out. He’s seen her work more with other weapons and she’s never seen him with a weapon in hand at all. They take their time sizing each other up.

 

But the first clash of stick against stick sends tension soaring, bleeding away distraction and taking their jokes along with it.

 

Despite her teasing, she doesn’t flirt with him as she fights. She’s all concentration, reacting, attacking, watching, assessing. It’s impressive. Watching her train is one thing, but being on the receiving end is something else entirely. It gives him a whole new appreciation for Jules and Ellie’s assessments. And her swordsmanship experience serves her well. Fighting with staves is mostly footwork, too, but the mechanics are different. The grip, the way the weapon is used, the force when it collides with another stick. Despite that, though, she’s good. Better than he’d thought, if he’s honest. As they move across the mats, the hits slowly growing harder, he realizes they’re more evenly matched than he originally assumed.

 

It makes the prospect of kicking her ass a bit more exciting.

 

He leans into his attacks, putting more weight behind them, and he can’t help but laugh when she deflects him with ease. He doesn’t miss her prideful smile before she gets back to business, and it has his heart soaring. She’s stunning. He wants to be the source of that little smile as often as possible.

 

What he doesn’t expect is how aggressive she is in her attacks. Maybe it’s because she feels like she has something to prove - he’s not sure - but it keeps him on his toes.

 

They keep going until they’re both covered in sweat and the only sounds that fill the bunker are grunts for air.

 

She sneaks in an impressive overhead front attack that has him looking for a weak spot in her offense he can exploit. He picks the moment carefully, following through with a front thrust when she moves her feet just slightly the wrong way. But his lunge gets thrown off-kilter when she steps toward him and shoves the end of her staff underneath the middle of his before yanking. He stumbles forward and she twists her wrists, spinning her staff.

 

He’s not sure how it happens. One second he’s got a solid grip on his weapon, the next it’s being ripped away from him and he’s sprawled on the ground with her straddling him, her hands nailing his to the mats on either side of his head.

 

Amelia grins. “Gotcha!”

 

She makes a hell of a sight. Delight colors her entire face, her eyes dancing with life and light, her skin dewey with sweat. It strikes him that she’s in her element and it’s absolutely stunning. Even if he hadn’t had the wind knocked out of him, the weight of her body bearing down is more than enough to steal his breath from his lungs. Her thighs are warm where they’re nestled against his hips, fitting against him so perfectly it hurts.

 

He sees the moment she realizes the precariousness of their position.

 

Amelia’s smile fades into something heavier as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. His stomach dips at the look in her eyes, but it’s gone before he can catch it. She sits up and releases his hands. But she doesn’t get off of him and it takes more willpower than he knew he had to keep his hands from her hips.

 

“Told you I’d pin you,” she says.

 

“You did.” Will pushes a sweaty lock of hair from her brow. “Hell of a job there, Providence.”

 

Amelia pauses, a tentative smile tugging at her lips as she searches his face. He wonders what she sees as she sits up a little more fully.

 

“I know you don’t want me to do this,” she says quietly, resting her hand over his heart. It jumps beneath her touch and he wonders if she feels it. She strokes his chest with her thumb before catching herself. “But I hope you see that I can. I hope you believe in me.”

 

Will sighs and covers her hand with his. “I’ve always believed in you, Amelia. I just also believe that you deserve more than this. Strength isn’t just picking up a weapon and putting on a mask,” he says, echoing her earlier sentiment. “Sometimes it’s living your life for yourself in spite of other people trying to take that away from you.”

 

He reaches up to touch her neck. The bruises faded long ago, but he remembers them as clear as if they were there right now. He traces the side of her neck where the fingermarks had been. She’s healed, but he knows better than anyone that not all scars are visible.

 

“I get why you need to, though,” he whispers.

 

“Good,” Amelia says. She swallows and her throat moves under his touch. “That’s a start.”

 

Yes, it is.

 

That thought rattles through him as a clamor of voices rings out from the parking garage. Amelia slides off him, moving to stand and extending a hand to help him up before anyone else enters the lair. As terrifying as all of this is, it’s _something_. The pull toward her is inevitable.

 

And he’s not sure how long he can keep denying it.  


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up!

Some moments linger long after they pass.

 

The ghost of a touch. The rumble of a voice. The lingering hint of cologne that makes a heart stumble.

 

It’s like that for Amelia in the days that follow sparring with Will.

 

She hears how he’d gasped when her fingers traced down the rough edges of his scar. She _feels_ the heat of his body where it had pressed against hers when she’d pinned him. The scent of their sweat-soaked skin against the mats still fills her senses. And when she shuts her eyes, the only thing she sees is the nervously hopeful look he’d stared at her with, the one he tried so hard to hide.

 

When she’d come back to Starling, it hadn’t been for him. He wasn’t why she joined Team Arrow. And even when she’d tried to reach out to him, it had been in hopes of making amends, not because she thought there’d be another chance for them. She honestly thought that bridge had burned. But now…

 

Now she needs the rest of the world to chill out and give her a few crisis-free hours to appreciate the new _maybe_ that hangs between them.

 

“No, I’ve got it handled, Keeley,” Amelia assures her boss through the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she climbs out of her car.

 

“You’re a miracle worker, Amelia, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried,” Keeley responds as Amelia grabs her bag from the backseat and heads over to the palm-print and ocular scanners that grant access to the lair. “I don’t think it’s a stretch to say Domino doesn’t want this hospital built and ever since the mayor’s murder…”

 

“It’s harder,” Amelia agrees, lining her face up to the eye scanner. “People are scared of backing it.”

 

“He’s a powerful guy, whoever he is. And he’s gunning for people who get in his way.”

 

The eye scanner turns green and Amelia moves to the handprint panel. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty powerful, too. And I’m gunning for people who get in _my_ way.”

 

“He’s literally gunning, Amelia. You aren’t,” Keeley says. Amelia has to bite her tongue to keep from correcting her. “And besides, it seems as though he has some pretty influential friends.”

 

Amelia smiles as the door to the lair slides open. “That’s at least one thing we have in common.”

 

Keeley gives an unimpressed grumble. “Amelia…”

 

“I’m stepping into a meeting,” Amelia tells her. “Possible new approach to securing the area bordering our site and getting around the zoning issues. I’ll call you later.”

 

“Good luck,” her boss replies before hanging up.

 

Dropping her phone into her bag, Amelia hikes the strap up a bit higher and steps into the lair before stopping dead in her tracks.

 

Of all the Queens she expected to see in Arrow headquarters, Nate was at the very bottom of the list. He sits at the computer desks with his own laptop in front of him and his sleeves rolled up. Classical music plays softly in the background as he types. All Amelia can do is blink. Maybe someday she won’t expect Nate Queen to be a scrawny ten-year-old tripping over his own feet with excitement about making copies and coffee, but today is not that day. At some point he stopped being that little kid. She has to look _up_ to meet his eyes now. It’s just as jarring today as it was the first time she realized that a few months back.

 

But for all that he looks like a young adult, he still reminds her of the elementary schooler who discovered the joy of combining peanut butter with s’mores.

 

Nate glances her way, doing a double-take himself when he realizes he’s not alone. “Amelia, hey!”

 

“Hey there, stranger,” Amelia replies, setting her bag down on the conference table. His obvious delight at seeing her has always made her feel welcome. It’s a stark contrast to his sisters. Or one of them, at least. She heads over to him. “How’s it going?”

 

“Okay,” he says, shutting the music off and leaning back in his chair to look up at her. “I had some work to do and my neighbors were being noisy. This seemed like a better option than a coffee shop.”

 

“Right up until someone decides it’s time to kick a little butt,” she agrees.

 

“Dad has a meeting with party leadership this morning. Jules has a gallery opening she and Alex are going to. Ellie’s at the foundation. Will’s probably still napping after work.” He shrugs. “Seems like a pretty safe option to me.”

 

Amelia shakes her head with a chuckle. “How long have you been at this? It’s way past morning. Will’s teaching CPR at the foundation by now and Ellie’s supposed to meet me here any minute.”

 

“What?” Nate blinks owlishly at her from behind his glasses before looking at his laptop. “It’s after _three?_ ”

 

“Time flies when you’re having fun with…” Amelia tilts her head toward his screen. “Spreadsheets.”

 

“Damn it,” he mutters, shutting the laptop with more force than necessary before rubbing his forehead. “Stupid time zones.”

 

That’s when it all makes sense. If it’s after three in Starling then it’s past eleven in London where Nate’s girlfriend Yvette goes to college. Amelia’s never had a long-distance relationship herself, but she has to imagine the strain of it is draining.

 

She offers Nate a sympathetic smile as she sits next to him. “You miss her.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes. His shoulders fall. “I hate being apart. Visiting is great, but it makes coming home so much worse.”

 

“Is she coming back for summer break?”

 

“Some of it.” Nate sighs again. “She’s got an internship for part of it, too. In Ireland. And I know she’s excited and it’s an awesome opportunity for her, but I just keep thinking…”

 

“Thinking what?”

 

“I’m gonna spend the whole three weeks she’s home dreading the day she leaves,” he admits. “And I’ll go back to time zone problems and taking her on ‘dates’ over Skype and not being able to hold her hand and… And the whole world will be just a little darker without her here.”

 

“Oh, Nate.” Amelia reaches over and squeezes his hand in a brief gesture of support. “I might not have been in your shoes exactly, but I know how hard it is to be apart from someone you love. And I’m really sorry. She sounds wonderful and it’s clear how much you care about her.”

 

“Yeah. I do. And it makes it _really_ hard to understand how two people who are crazy about each other can be right in front of one another and waste so much time.”

 

Amelia huffs out a humorless laugh and sits back, looking down at her hands as she folds them together. “Sometimes it’s more complicated than feelings.”

 

Nate tilts his head, and it’s his turn to study her. “Simplify it, then,” he advises. She looks up at him at the statement. “My brother’s never loved anyone but you. I feel like I’ve known that my whole life. And it’s pretty obvious those feelings have never been one-sided. You’re both _here_. That’s a chance some of us would kill for. Don’t waste it.”

 

It’s nothing she hasn’t said to herself a dozen times before. But she’s never heard it put quite so bluntly. There’s something powerful about hearing it aloud that breaks through the thoughts circling around her head.

 

But before her mind comes to a rest, the door to the lair slides open and Ellie appears. “Heya!”

 

She’s wearing a business suit that somehow leaves her looking younger than she is. She seems more like an intern than the executive director of her late aunt’s charity. Despite that, Amelia knows it’s a mistake to underestimate Ellie Queen.

 

“Hi,” she replies, standing up. “Thanks for making time for this.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Ellie asks, dropping her bag next to Amelia’s on the conference table. “This is a win-win-win for us. It’ll help the foundation, the hospital system, _and_ mess with whatever crap Domino’s got planned. I’m a fan. This is priority number one.” She glances past Amelia. “How’s it going, Bug?”

 

Nate makes a face at the nickname. “Fine,” he replies. “Just getting some schoolwork done. And talking with Amelia about how _frustrating_ it is to be across the planet from my girlfriend while _some_ people in my life are across the room from the person they care about and won’t do anything about it.”

 

Ellie stiffens, glowering at her little brother. Nate just raises his eyebrows and folds his arms, daring her to respond.

 

“Nate, I know you mean well,” Ellie says slowly, narrowing her eyes. “But mind your own business.”

 

He shakes his head. “Life’s short, Ellie. And chances are fleeting. Some of us never get much of one to start with. Wasting your shot because you’re too wrapped up in yourself is stupid.” He opens his laptop and looks back at his screen. “But it’s your choice, so whatever.”

 

Nate doesn’t look up again, but Amelia’s sure he feels the drill of Ellie’s gaze where she stares at him with pinkened cheeks and a rigid spine. Her nostrils flare slightly when she finally looks away, her eyes darting everywhere but him. There are a lot of people who call her out about her feelings for Sara, but Amelia suspects that Nate’s never been one of them.

 

“We should get to work,” Amelia tells her, tilting her head toward the conference table.

 

“Yeah,” Ellie says, visibly gathering herself. “Yes, let’s get to work.”

 

“So,” Amelia says, moving to the table. She sits and pulls out her laptop. “What kind of shape are we in?”

 

“Excellent, I’m happy to say.” Ellie smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but neither of them comment on it. “Do you have a map?”

 

Amelia hums in agreement and pulls up her files, maximizing the display of the area where they want to build the hospital. For all the stumbling blocks in her way, none of them have been due to lack of planning. If this was any other city - any other time - the hospital would’ve broken ground months ago.

 

“Okay,” Ellie says, rubbing her hands together and scooting closer to Amelia. “The foundation put in bids for the buildings here, here, and here. I personally bought that block to the north.”

 

“Uh, you…” Amelia blinks, looking at Ellie. “You bought everything on three sides of the site?”

 

“Nifty, huh?” Ellie grins. “We had competitive bids from a few companies that I’ve found absolutely nothing about online. I asked my mom to look into them because the way I see it, they’ve got to be working for Domino, right? But assets are not really something that’s a problem for me and property is always a good investment. Besides, that land was going for dirt cheap. With the way crime has gone up, who wants to live or own a business there? I paid over market value, but I really don’t mind.”

 

Amelia can’t fathom having that kind of money at the tip of her fingers. “What’s your plan for the land?”

 

“The main point was just to own it,” Ellie tells her. “Because then we can also insist on road improvements and make it a hell of a lot harder for the city to say no to us. But there’s a lot of good the foundation can do in this area. I thought we’d build another community center, maybe a garden or a park. This one could be a temporary housing facility for patients’ families that we’ll donate to the hospital. With the buildings I bought, I’m hiring an agency to take care of rent and all that, but I want to do major building improvements and lease the shops back at a low, fixed rate to the current business tenants.”

 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Amelia says, looking at her with fresh eyes.

 

Ellie shrugs. “I don’t have any real interest in being a landlord, but I do want to help the city. We haven’t been able to stop Domino’s influence on these neighborhoods, no matter what the team does. If Dart can’t fix it, maybe Ellie Queen can, you know? It just seemed like the right thing to do and the opportunity was there. Plus, I think Aunt Thea would’ve approved.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re right about that,” Amelia replies, giving her a warm smile. “That’s amazing, Ellie. And it’ll definitely help us get approval for the hospital.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Absolutely. Building up those businesses will require roadway improvements. There’s no good reason to say no, not when someone with capital and influence is jumping in to try and improve an area that’s slid so far downhill in recent years. If they try - _when_ they try - we can media blitz them.”

 

“Opinion pieces, or what?”

 

“We need a lot more than that,” Amelia says, chewing on her lip as she studies the map. “I’ll talk to the foundation’s public relations person to coordinate. We can get some B-roll of business owners talking about what a great step forward this is, find some residents nearby to pitch in, talk to someone who needs a hospital in the area that can speak to how necessary it is. Think you can get some foundation donors to publicly back it, too?”

 

“Other than me?” Ellie asks.

 

“Preferably.”

 

“I can check,” Ellie says. Nothing about her looks convinced she’ll have any success. “Everyone’s pretty scared of pissing off Domino. It might be a hard sell.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the message I’m getting on every front.” Amelia growls in frustration. “It’s like he’s the damned boogeyman. He’s got everyone afraid of their own shadows.”

 

“Not us,” Ellie reminds her. “And I’d bet that’s true for most of the people still running businesses in that neighborhood, too. Anyone who’s stuck around this long has to have nerves of steel.”

 

Amelia bites the tip of her tongue. She hopes that’s the case, but she doesn’t share Ellie’s confidence. Anyone still living in that part of town has probably gotten really good at keeping their head down. Or, more likely, they’re paying off Domino to leave them alone. Despite that, though, this is exactly the solution Amelia has been looking for. She wants to kick herself for not talking to Ellie before now. Her plan is a huge step in the right direction. It might be a small victory in the bigger war, but Amelia’s going to take whatever wins she can get.

 

“I’ll want to talk to your communications team before I bring this back to Keeley, but I think-”

 

A blaring noise cuts her off. The ear-piercing alarm rockets through the lair, setting Amelia’s nerves on edge as both she and Ellie shoot to their feet. They sprint toward the computers where Nate’s already spinning away from his laptop to the main control center. He taps a few buttons, bringing the lair’s computers to life.

 

“What the hell is that?” Ellie demands as Nate kills the alarm. “Where’s the probl…”

 

Her voice trails off when he brings up the answer to her question on the monitors.

 

“Oh my God,” Amelia breathes.

 

A stream of Domino’s boys kick in the front door to the Queen Foundation building. Stark white masks flood the main hall, their soulless black eyes sending a shiver down Amelia’s spine. People scatter, racing to get away, their mouths open in unheard shouts and screams. Strobe lights pulse against the walls as someone pulls a fire alarm.

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Ellie whispers, taking over the keys and pushing Nate to the side. “He must’ve found out we bought that land. This is retaliation.”

 

Amelia moves to lean in over Ellie’s shoulder when another one of the security feeds catches her attention.

 

She freezes, her heart stopping at the sight of Will in a room by himself dropping a CPR training dummy and heading to the door.

 

“No,” she gasps.

 

Ellie’s head whips around with a rushed, “What?” but Amelia’s already in motion, pushing her out of the way with a sharp, “ _Move_ ,” before dashing to grab her sword and suit.

 

“Hang on,” Ellie snaps, stepping back from the computers. “You can’t go out there alone!”

 

Amelia doesn’t hear her. There’s only one thought in her head…

 

 _Will is there_.

 

She doesn’t bother going into the locker room. Instead she pulls her blouse and skirt off right there, her bra following a quick second later. She tugs on her leather pants and corset to the sound of Nate’s alarmed, sputtering protest. But Amelia doesn’t care at all about giving him an inadvertent eyeful. She doesn’t waste time with her boots, grabbing them, her mask, and her sword as she races across the lair.

 

“Amelia, you can’t go out there alone. Wait for me! Hey... Hey, _slow down_ -”

 

Ellie’s protests go unheeded as Amelia grabs her keys before barrelling out the door.

 

It’s only thanks to self-driving cars that she finishes getting dressed and gets her mask on. She’s barely managed to shove her feet into her boots before she gets to the foundation’s building. Not that it matters. She would’ve raced into the fight barefoot in her business suit if she’d had to.

 

 _Will is in danger_.

 

The driving need to defeat Domino that she’s been operating under falls away. She doesn’t care about herself, doesn’t care when she switches off the comm sewn into her mask to shut Ellie and Nate’s protests out. Her entire world zeroes in on one thing and one thing only: _Will_. Trained by his father or not, he’s only human. And he needs her help.

 

Because _she_ needs _him_.

 

Her car narrowly avoids hitting the crush of people running away from the foundation, and it only does so because of its programming. She wrenches her keys free and jumps out of the car. The moment that the panicked bystanders realize there’s a vigilante in their midst, they get out of her way. Screams fill the air, followed by a gunshot. People cry out, pointing at the building.

 

She knows where to go with a certainty she never had before she put on her mask.

 

“Get to safety,” she barks, sheathing her sword and breaking into a full run toward the building.

 

Amelia shoves her way through the flow of people freshly escaping the chaos within, snapping at them to move. It’s only the sound of her own voice that reminds her to flip on her voice modulator. But when she does and the crowds part, she doesn’t head for the front door. There are too many people between her and Will. And, as much as she wants to save everyone, she _needs_ to save Will.

 

There are dozens of rooms where he could have been working. All the windows look the same.

 

Cursing under her breath, Amelia breaks into a dead-run, her long hair flowing behind her. She cuts around the corner of the building, nearly running over a bystander. She doesn’t stop. Her lungs burn, her heart pounds, a cold sweat sears beneath her suit. She tries to think, to remember where exactly in the building Will does his training, but her thoughts are short and sporadic, coming and going in bursts she can’t follow.

 

A wordless shout pierces the agitated fog in her head.

 

She’d know that voice anywhere.

 

Amelia runs toward the closest open window. It’s pure adrenaline and focus that has her racing as fast as she can. A struggle within is evident even from outside and she doesn’t waste a single precious second, lunging forward and diving straight through the screen. Muscle memory takes over and she gives into it, landing in a roll and coming up in a crouched position.

 

Will’s there and so are two of Domino’s boys.

 

For a split second, she freezes. Her mind twists reality, taking her back to that conference room from all those months ago. The two men before her are the ones who tormented her, who killed Mayor Lance, who…

 

No.

 

The men behind these masks are not Ketherington and Meyers. They’re not the men who gutted the mayor and tried to kill her. She’s not at City Hall. She’s at the Queen Foundation. And these men... They’re battling the man she loves. They’re making him bleed from a cut on his cheek. They’re throwing him against a desk. They’re punching him in the stomach, as he doubles over in pain. They’re hurting him when he’s alone and unarmed, when all he’d wanted to do was teach people how to save a life.

 

Righteous fury rockets through her.

 

Pulling her sword free, Amelia grabs the dagger at her thigh and with a roar, she attacks.

 

Somewhere in the background she hears them trash talking - _“Lookie here, we’ve got wannabe vigilantes popping out of the woodwork,”_ and, _“Sweetheart, a Halloween costume isn’t going to protect you”_ \- but she doesn’t rise to the bait. Her mind whirls with tactics and moves, strategies and goals, all of them focused on the two masked men before her.

 

There’s only one purpose here: save Will.

 

He’s okay for the moment. Her gaze flits past her masked opponents to find him breathing hard as he pulls himself upright. It’s a struggle, one of the attackers got a good hit in and he’s winded, flinching as he tries to straighten his back. But even in pain, his focus hones in on her in the span of a heartbeat. His eyes go wide, full of gratefulness and fear.

 

She must absorb some of it and reflect it back, because the masked men suddenly shift their taunts, their words turning sharply mocking as they chuckle at her expense.

 

It doesn’t take long for their laughter to die at the point of her sword.

 

The fight is quick and dirty, a flurry of activity that happens so fast she can barely keep up. Fighting someone for real is very different from sparring, and it’s even more terrifying knowing that it’s just her here. The rest of the team isn’t a few feet away, watching her back, more than outnumbering the bad guys.

 

She’s on her own.

 

Not turning her back on her attacker is rule one, but it’s impossible with two opponents. They flank her, going for any opening they can find. They’re better at fighting than she could have possibly anticipated and she scrambles to measure up. It’s muscle memory alone that saves her life a few times, blocking, parrying, fighting to keep her weapons in-hand.

 

The first time she cuts one of her attackers, she almost freezes.

 

She never fully appreciated just how dangerous her blades were until this moment. Her sword had stayed sheathed the only night she went out with the team. She’d been too startled by the attack to respond with anything other than hand-to-hand, then. But now, her blades are out and she’s viciously aware of the blood her dagger just drew. The thought of really _hurting_ someone makes her stomach churn with horror. When Oliver had insisted she attack butchered pigs, she hadn’t been quiet about her distaste for the exercise. Now, she’s grateful. Her swings are careful, more exact, ensuring she doesn’t cut too deep, doesn’t go too hard. Doesn’t get more blood on her hands than necessary.

 

Each passing second challenges that desire, though. They may be thugs, but they’re fast and precise, and they have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get her out of their way. Fear slowly winds its way through her. She grits her teeth against it, but she’s breathing too hard, hard enough that she wonders if spots will start dancing over her vision. Her hands ache from gripping her blades so damn tight.

 

 _Keep going, keep moving, hit, hit, hit_ …

 

She doesn’t know how much longer she can, but she doesn’t let that slow her down.

 

Hair whirling around her, Amelia blocks a punch, using the man’s momentum to slash a heavy line across his flak vest before slamming the flat of her blade against the other man’s head. Every time she thinks she has a hand up on them, they switch tactics.

 

Ultimately, it’s Will who gives her the advantage she needs.

 

He appears behind one of the men and grabs his arms, wrenching them back sharply. The man lets out a pained cry, but it’s nothing compared to the scream he gives when Will delivers a brutal kick to the back of his leg. He goes crashing to his knees, his gun clattering away.

 

“Hey!” the other attacker shouts, spinning to Will.

 

“No!” Amelia growls.

 

She strikes, aiming to cut just deep enough for him to drop his gun. Her blade hits his tendon instead, slicing right through it. A blood-curdling scream fills the room as his arm drops, his gun slipping from his fingers, his hand falling limply to his side.

 

“Oh,” she breathes, stumbling back a step. The tip of her sword hits the floor with a loud crack, red smearing off the tip to stain the laminate floor.

 

The man falls to the ground next to his friend, as Will grabs the gun. He trains it on both men as he heads toward Amelia. The sight of him moving, so sure and confident and _okay,_ has her coming back to herself.

 

Ignoring how her hand shakes slightly as she raises her sword, Amelia presses the bloodied tip to the throat of the man she just sliced through. He goes very still, and even though his eyes are hidden by the black pits of his mask, something tells her that they’re wide with fear.

 

 _Good_.

 

“You can tell Domino that he’s done winning,” Amelia growls. Grit overlays every word and she takes strength from it. “We’re taking this city back, whether he likes it or not.”

 

He’s too bloodied and too terrified to answer.

 

“You’re gonna die,” the other man announces. It sounds more like a fact than a threat. “And he’ll make you wish it was quick. He’ll destroy you.”

 

Will tenses. And, in one swift move, he walks up to the man and slams the butt of the gun against his temple. Their attacker sags to the ground, thudding against the floor. Will wastes no time doing the same to the man she’d sliced and he follows suit, landing in an even heap.

 

“We need to go,” Will tells hers, shoving the gun in the back of his pants.

 

“He’ll live, right?” Amelia swallows uneasily as she stares at the man’s bleeding arm. Her concern sounds jarring even to her own ears through the distortion of her modulator, so she turns it off. Somehow, that brings a sharp edge of reality to the world around her. Her breaths come hard and fast and they sound like _her_. The blood pooling on the ground gleams a bright shock of red against everything, spreading out toward her feet. “I-I didn’t have a problem hurting him, because I knew what he was going to do, but…”

 

“It’s not a fatal wound,” Will assures her. “It only looks like a lot of blood if you’re not used to what a lot of blood really looks like. He’ll survive. You did that really well.”

 

“You’re sure?” she asks. The adrenaline is wearing off and with it the certainty that’d fueled her. Her hands start shaking and she struggles to re-sheath her sword on her back. The dagger nearly falls from her numb fingers. Her eyes never leave the blood inching toward her boots. “Will, I don’t…”

 

“Hey.” Will’s gaze skates over both men, ensuring that they’re completely out, and then he cups her face. When she doesn’t look at him right away, he ducks his head to catch her eyes, forcing her to focus on him. “I’m sure, Amelia. You didn’t kill him, you only hurt him. You did beautifully, honey. Okay? I promise.”

 

She believes him. She _trusts_ him. It has nothing to do with her still-nubile instincts or total lack of experience. He anchors her, settles her.

 

Will raises an eyebrow, waiting.

 

Amelia finally nods and forces herself to breathe more evenly.

 

He lets out a slow breath. He takes all of her in, wincing when he sees blood at the corner of her mouth from a particularly vicious punch. He doesn’t say anything, though. All he does is gently brush her hair out of her eyes, careful to avoid the sharp points of her mask.

 

“I like your hair down,” he whispers.

 

Her heart stutters, but it’s not just his words that make that happen. It’s the fact that he can say anything at all. He’s alive. She helped him. He’s okay.

 

“Will,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

 

The door to the classroom flies open.

 

It takes Amelia far too long to react. She let her guard down, she realizes, in the middle of a building that’s under attack. Domino’s boys are everywhere and who knows who they’ve hurt or what damage they’ve done. And what was she doing? _Panicking_. Damn it, she’s better than this. This is what she’s been training for.

 

And yet, as the door bounces off the wall, all she does is look toward the entryway at the same time Will does.

 

But, instead of a soulless black and white mask, a wall of green fills the doorway.

 

The Arrow pauses at the sight of them and then lets out a heavy sigh.

 

Will’s hands fall away from Amelia’s face in an instant. But any surprise hurt that might have sprung from that simple action evaporates when he doesn’t move away from her. He stays right there, so close she can smell the musky mixture of day-old cologne and fresh sweat. Despite the leather covering her body, she feels the heat emanating off him. A flush breaks out across her chest.

 

Oliver scans the room, noting the two bodies on the floor before touching his chest. “No, they’re both fine,” he says into his comm.

 

Judging by the soft note in his tone, Amelia assumes Felicity patched into the line the second she heard what was happening. That softness dies a hard death when he nails Amelia with a solid glare. She freezes, her eyes widening as Will stiffens at her side.

 

Oliver clenches his jaw before biting out, “You two need to get out of here.”

 

“Is the building secure?” Amelia asks.

 

He stares at her for a beat. “Nearly,” Oliver replies with a clipped tone, but that’s all he offers. She opens her mouth to ask for more information, but Oliver steps forward, moving so fast she can barely keep up until he’s towering over her. Or it seems that way, anyhow. It’s hard to remember she’s barely a few inches shorter than him when his presence fills the space so massively. “If you ever pull something like this again, _Providence_ , you’re done. No more team, no more training, nothing. You do this smart, or you don’t do it. You got it?”

 

Amelia blanches. She’s never been on Oliver’s bad side - not once - and it leaves her feeling about two inches tall.

 

Will steps closer to his father. “She was just-”

 

“I know what she was doing,” Oliver interrupts, his voice dangerously low. “All the more reason to be careful. You run half-cocked into anything, you will lose.”

 

“I didn’t lose,” Amelia replies in a strained voice before she can stop herself.

 

Oliver’s eyes flare. “You got lucky,” he tells her and she feels the truth of his words in her bones. “This isn’t just about fighting well. I need to know that when I tell you something, you are hearing it. If a senior member of the team tells you to stay at the bunker, you stay. If whoever is in charge tells you to wait for backup, that’s what you do. That is how our team works. If one part of it falls, the rest of us do, too. There isn’t room for acting first, asking questions later here. Trust me when I say that’s how you lose. You need to be _smart_ , because it’s not just you out here, it’s all of us. If you do something this reckless again, you’re out.”

 

His anger chokes the air. And, even though everything in her wants to cower away from it, she doesn’t. It’s only when Will responds, shifting to move between them that Amelia moves, placing her hand on his arm to stop him from acting in her stead. This is between her and her team leader.

 

“I got it,” she says quietly, her eyes never leaving Oliver’s. “It won’t happen again. I just… I had to get here.”

 

The hard lines of Oliver’s face soften. It’s slight, but she catches it. “I know you did,” he replies. In that moment, she knows he understands what she did completely. “Trust me, our priorities are the same.” His eyes switch to Will for a beat before he looks back at Amelia. “The police are on their way, you two need to go.”

 

With a short nod, Amelia slides her palm down Will’s arm to grab his hand. His fingers immediately wind around hers and they move toward the door as one.

 

“Oh, and Providence?” Oliver adds. She looks back. “Please refrain from bringing your personal car to a fight? That’s an excellent way to land your ass in jail.”

 

“I, uh…” Amelia stutters, blushing. “Okay.”

 

“If you don’t have any street clothes to change into,” he continues, his tone telling her that he damn well knows she doesn’t, “then Will, please drive her home so she can stay hidden.”

 

“Of course,” Will says without hesitation. It makes her stomach swoop and she instinctively squeezes his hand. It’s her heart’s turn to swoop when he squeezes hers back.

 

“You also might want to do us all a favor and not walk through your front door wearing your mask.”

 

She pinches her lips into a thin, chastised line. She deserves that. “Right.”

 

“And... Good work.” Her head pops up to find Oliver giving her a tiny smile. He nods to the unconscious men on the floor. “That was a very precise slice. It shows care and speed. You did good.”

 

There’s a hint of pride in his voice and the familiar burn of tears fills her eyes. She blinks before they can become anything, but the feeling lingers. He said he would train her, and he has. He’s patiently fielded her requests to join them in the field, wanting to do more. When she thought there was no hope left, he told her the team had agreed to see how she does and had a custom suit shipped all the way from Central City. And even now, having just chewed her out for being reckless, he told her in the same breath that he understood and that he was proud of the work she did. Oliver Queen isn’t a man of many words, but what he does say - and what his actions say for him - carries the weight of a thousand declarations.

 

For the first time, she feels like he sees her as part of his team and she beams.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Now get home. Take the rest of the night off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

She isn’t off the hook, but she isn’t off the team. And that’s more than enough for her.

 

“Okay,” Amelia replies.

 

“Where’s your car?” Will asks.

 

She winces. “Out front.” His eyes widen, but it’s in amusement more than anything else. That, and wonder. A small incredulous smile pulls at his lips. “There isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for you, Will Queen.”

 

Racing over without a care in the world except him. Busting through a window. Fighting for him.

 

_It’s Will._

 

Like he hears those words, his mouth quirks up, warmth filling his eyes. “There’s an emergency exit at the end of the hall,” Will tells her in a quiet voice that sends a shiver down her spine. “We’ll go out that way.”

 

Oliver nods in agreement and they leave the classroom.

 

“This way,” Will says, tugging her down the hall.

 

When they reach the door, Amelia stops him. “We should probably stop holding hands before we walk outside,” she says. He glances back at her before looking down at their interlaced fingers. He doesn’t let her go, not right away. Instead, he holds on tighter. Her breath catches and she lingers before exhaling. She’s afraid to do anything, not wanting to crush whatever is blossoming between them. The shift in him is obvious, and she clings to it. But, desires aside, it’s still asking for trouble to walk outside with a clear connection between them. “I’m just… I mean, it’s not a big leap to figure out who I am, if people see us holding onto each other. And you driving my car to my apartment.”

 

“Fair enough,” he replies, letting her go. She flexes her hand to chase away the feeling that something’s missing as he pushes the door open. He scans the area quickly before sending her a sharp, “Let’s move.”

 

There’s no one in sight. It occurs to Amelia there might be people watching from surrounding buildings as she and Will run to her car, but he stays ducked down as if he has the same thought, keeping himself hidden as much as possible. He says, “Keys,” and she tosses them to him without hesitation. He snatches the keychain out of the air, unlocking her car just as she reaches the back door. Amelia dives into the back seat as he slides behind the steering wheel.

 

Will has the car on and peeling away from the building before she knows it. She grips the seat beneath her to keep from tumbling as he takes a corner too sharply, whipping down a side street. It’s only when he’s a couple of blocks away that he slows down.

 

“You really don’t have a change of clothes?” Will asks.

 

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Amelia replies, pulling her mask off and dropping it on the car floor. She doesn’t sit up, instead turning onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. When Will doesn’t reply right away, she clears her throat, brushing her hair out of her face as she adds, “I should probably start keeping some in my car.”

 

“Definitely,” Will agrees.

 

Silence is their only companion for a few minutes until Amelia slowly sits up. Adrenaline lingers, making her antsy. Her mind races with what just happened - with what she just did. She has to move, to do _something._ The creak of her leathers splinters the quiet. She settles into one of the seats, sinking down slightly to hide what she’s wearing from anyone who might glance in the window.

 

Her hands fidget in her lap.

 

They’re suddenly too hot in her gloves so she yanks the leather off.

 

It occurs to her that Will drives without asking for directions, something that sends butterflies skittering through her stomach.

 

“How are you doing?” he asks softly.

 

“I’m fine,” she replies automatically. “I didn’t get hurt.”

 

“I know that,” Will tells her and her eyes snap to where he’s watching her in the rearview mirror. His gaze sees right through her and she can’t look away. “But that was your first real fight. And it was the first time you actually hurt someone. That can mess with your head.”

 

Amelia opens her mouth to tell him she’s fine, because for a second she thinks she is. But realization strikes quickly that she’s not. She doesn’t really know _what_ she is, if she’s being honest. There’s fear and excitement and guilt and gratefulness all mixed into one. It jumps all over the place, leaving her off-kilter.

 

“My hands won’t stop shaking,” she admits in a quiet voice, turning to look at the passing scenery out her window. “And I feel terrible that I hurt that man. But at the same time I don’t, because it was necessary and… And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

 

“I know you would,” he replies. “And you could.”

 

Amelia frowns at him. “What does _that_ mean?”

 

“It means you were Providence back there,” Will tells her. He looks at her in the rearview mirror again. “It means you earned that mask.”

 

She can hear the pride and sadness warring in his voice. There’s a touch of regret in his tone, but he still says the words. It means more than she can tell him. She knows he doesn’t want this for her. He’s made it clear on more than one occasion, even if it hadn’t been painfully obvious after the way he’d treated her for months. But it seems like she’s convincing him, finally, that she can handle herself. Even if it’s only a tiny piece of what she wants, she’ll take it.

 

“We’re here,” Will says before she replies. She looks out her window in surprise as he pulls to a stop on the street. He shuts the car off and twists toward her. There’s something painfully gentle about the way he looks at her. “Did you want me to run up and grab you some clothes?”

 

“Actually, would you… Do you mind if I meet you up there? It’d be easier for me to drop down from the building next door.”

 

“I don’t mind,” he replies. He tosses her a half-smile. “I do find it amazing that I live a life where everyone I know would agree that it’s just easier to jump off the roof of a building than it is to change clothes in the back seat of a car. But no… I don’t mind. I’ll, uh… I’ll meet you up there. It’s 4C, right?”

 

Her heart trips again. “Right.”

 

“‘Kay.” Will climbs out and scans the street. “Coast is clear.”

 

Amelia grabs her mask where she abandoned it on the floor and eases out of the car. Will remotely locks the it and ambles into her building as if everything is perfectly normal. She finds herself watching him for a beat too long before chastising herself and darting into the shadows of her building. She thinks about putting her mask on - really, that’d be the smart thing to do - but the thought of it feels too heavy for some reason. Instead, she slips it over her arm and quietly makes her way up the fire escape toward the top floor of the building next to hers.

 

The buildings are close together and it’s an easy thing to jump from one to the other. Well, it _should_ be. Instead, it’s actually terrifying because it’s four stories up.

 

She hesitates, fighting down a wave of nausea. The Arrow could do this with his eyes closed. Hell, Dart and Tempest could, too. She can do this, damn it.

 

Forcing herself not to look down, Amelia jumps across the three-foot-gap to her balcony.

 

Will appears, unlocking the french doors and letting her into her bedroom.

 

It’s only when the doors close behind her, when Will pulls the curtains shut and turns on a light, when she’s safely inside her own home, that the nerves really hit. They crash into her, leaving her with the sensation that she’s falling, even though she’s standing perfectly still.

 

“I’m shaking,” she realizes, looking at her trembling hands.

 

“It’s okay,” Will tells her. “It’s normal. You’re probably in a little bit of shock, but you’re fine.”

 

“Good thing I’m with a firefighter, then, huh?” Amelia asks with a weak laugh.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, brushing her hair behind her ear. His hand lingers on her cheek. “Good thing.”

 

The shiver that follows has nothing to do with the fight she’d just been in. It’s him. It’s that he’s here, that he’s okay, that she did everything in her power to make sure he could be standing before her now. Some logical part of her is aware that he knows how to fight, that he’d have been alright. But, that’s not the point. No, the point is the dawning realization that she’d throw herself into battle after battle if it meant a chance to keep him safe. She’d do anything for him…

 

Even risk her life.

 

It should be scary, but it’s not. Certainty and faith wash through her, easing her fear, settling her nerves.

 

But that doesn’t keep her from shaking.

 

“Come on,” Will says, rubbing her back. “Let’s get you warmed up.” She doesn’t say anything as he leads her toward her living room and urges her over to the sofa. “Here, sit down.”

 

She complies, sitting without giving the action any thought at all. Her shaking gets worse, but her eyes never leave him. She watches as he grabs an afghan draped across a nearby chair. He shakes it out before wrapping it around her shoulders and tugging it in close, covering as much of her as he can before sitting next to her. He rubs her arms to work some warmth back into her body.

 

With all of the times he’s taken care of her, she wonders if he has any idea how much she wants to do the same for him.

 

Probably not.

 

“Try to breathe slowly,” Will murmurs. He pulls her closer and Amelia curls into him, yearning for the heat he gives off so effortlessly. Their thighs press together as he turns his head toward her, his lips brushing against her hair. “Slow and even.”

 

His proximity does nothing to slow her breathing.

 

“You’re home,” he whispers. “You’re safe.”

 

 _I’m with you_.

 

Amelia closes her eyes.

 

This, she thinks, this is what she’s been fighting for. She started this journey as a way to learn how to fight for herself, and to bring down Domino, but it’s become so much more. It’s about taking control, about carving out the life she wants for herself. One where she can go to meetings without fear of being shot or choked, where hospitals are built because it’s for the common good, and where she can come home to the man she loves.

 

It’s here, within reach. And she _wants_ it so badly she can taste it.

 

Will’s hand slowly moves to rub her back through the blanket. He starts in lazy circles that migrate up. When he reaches where the afghan bunches against her shoulders, he slips his fingers inside just enough to massage the back of her neck.

 

She closes her eyes.

 

 _He remembered_.

 

She was right that night at the police station, when he waited with her and he rubbed her shoulders. Unlike coats that sit too tightly or the turtlenecks that she’ll never wear again, his hands against her neck feel safe. _Comforting_. He’s so gentle and the warmth of his palms bleed into her skin, leaving her feeling as though he’s warming her from the inside out.

 

“Will,” she breathes on a moan, tilting her head towards him until their foreheads touch.

 

It seems to alert him to what he’s doing.

 

Will’s hand stills against her. He swallows hard, his eyes fluttering shut before he gathers himself, sitting back. But the movement is barely anything. He’s still close enough that she can feel his quick breaths against her skin. His eyes dart over her face, lingering on her lips before finding her eyes again. Hesitation shines back at her. She’s certain there’s none at all to be found in her eyes. Amelia’s heart pounds hard enough she’s positive he can hear it, and the short, sharp breaths she can’t stop taking leave her corset feeling too tight.

 

_I want you._

 

The silent words fill the air between them. Like he hears them, Will’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. Amelia’s eyes drop to his mouth, watching the slow movement. She tugs her own trembling lip between her teeth. She could lean forward just a few inches and taste his lips again. She could press close and swallow his moan, bring him into her warmth and fall together with him.

 

She wants to, more than anything.

 

Amelia turns more fully to him, the afghan slipping as her hands find his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. She opens her mouth to tell him exactly how she feels, her lips forming his name…

 

But then he pulls back.

 

She tries to cage in the noise of the protest that falls from deep inside her, but she can’t quite stop her strangled whimper. It earns her a faint smile, something that makes her stomach swoop, before he looks down.

 

For the first time she notices the light glinting off her mask where it still sits wound around her forearm. Moving in slow motion, Will drops his hands to her arm, lifting it so he can slide the mask off. She knows it’s sturdy and sharp as hell, but he makes it look so incredibly fragile as he holds it gingerly between his fingers.

 

“It suits you,” he admits, rubbing his thumb over it. She holds her breath as he sets the mask down on the coffee table. When he looks back at her, there’s heat in his eyes, but it’s so laced with desperation that it makes her chest ache. He shakes his head, brushing her hair off her face before shoving his fingers into the thick strands. She gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as she falls into his sure grasp. His rough voice scrapes over her, leaving her shuddering as he grips her hair in his fists. “I still like you better without it, though. I just… I can’t stand seeing you in danger, Amelia. Not you. Anyone but you.”

 

“Will,” she breathes, turning her face so her lips brush his inner wrist. He sucks in a wild breath and she presses her hands against his chest, thrilling at the pounding of his heart under her palm. He drags his hand from her hair to cup her face and she nuzzles his palm as his forehead falls against hers. “I don’t want that, either. I don’t want either of us in danger, not ever. That’s why I wear the mask in the first place.” Amelia clutches his shirt in tight fists. “I would do anything to keep you safe, Will.”

 

The tiniest whine escapes him and she instinctively responds by arching closer to him.

 

“I-I should, uh…” he stutters, blinking rapidly and leaning back.

 

“Don’t go,” she pleads.

 

“I should… I should get you something warm to drink,” Will chokes out. “A cocoa or a tea or something. You should keep warm.”

 

“You’re keeping me warm,” Amelia whispers, scooting closer. The afghan falls to the floor, but there’s so much heat radiating off her now that she barely notices. At least until he catches sight of her cleavage where it strains against her leather corset.

 

Will chokes on a groan. “I, uh…” he manages, forcing his eyes back to hers. His pupils have blown wide, his gaze filling with liquid heat. But his hesitancy has gone nowhere. “You’ve been through a lot, Amelia, I should… I should tell you goodnight.”

 

Amelia slides a hand up and grips the side of his neck. She looks him square in the eye so there’s no question he can see the intent and intensity behind her reply.

 

“I’d rather you tell me good morning.”

 

It’s as forward as she’s ever been in her life and she doesn’t regret it for a single second. She’s done waiting, hoping, depending on maybes that never turn into anything. If the last couple of months have taught her anything, it’s that she’s a fighter. And she’s ready to fight for what she wants.

 

For him.

 

Will’s eyes widen for a microsecond as her intention lands home and then hunger eclipses his face. Hunger for her. Heat unfurls deep inside her at the way he looks at her as his fingers dig into her cheek and scalp, pulling her closer. She bites her lower lip, need tugging at her core when his eyes drop to her mouth. She’s never had a man look at her the way he is right now. It’s dizzying, leaving her lightheaded in the best possible way.

 

“Please,” she begs. “Will…”

 

“Amelia,” he groans. He screws his eyes shut as his forehead falls against hers again. “Honey, I don’t want to screw this up.”

 

“Okay,” she replies, tipping her face so their lips brush together with a whisper-light touch that promises of so much more. “Then don’t screw it up.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things are meant to be.

He isn’t sure who kisses who first.

 

One second they’re on the cusp, her whispered, _“Then don’t screw it up,”_ hanging in the air - a challenge, a gauntlet - and the next her soft lips are touching his and he’s gone. The world falls away completely, leaving nothing but a moment he’s barely let himself dream about.

 

Kissing Amelia is like coming home, only it’s somewhere far better than Will’s ever lived. The rightness of it demands that he hold on with everything he has. And, for the first time in too long, he _wants_ to. Because, if this is real, if this is actually happening… God, if he loses this again... Doubt skitters through the back of his mind, taunting him, and he falters. He wouldn’t cope if he lost this. He couldn’t. He knows that with a certainty he can taste.

 

 _Then don’t screw it up_.

 

Her words echo in his head, growing heavier with each passing second.

 

They evaporate on her first breathy, “Will.” Chills rocket down his spine at the naked want in her voice. With a groan, she kisses him again, harder, clinging to him like she never wants to stop or even take a breath ever again.

 

Neither does he, he thinks, kissing her back with complete abandon.

 

Amelia whimpers and grips his neck tighter. She arches her back, pressing her beautiful breasts into his chest. Her softness winds around him until it’s all he knows. Will pushes both hands into her hair, one hand making a tight fist that earns a needy hum from her. Her nails dig into him and she runs her tongue over his lips, asking for entrance.

 

He opens for her. He always will, no matter how much he tries to stop it.

 

This is worlds away from a first kiss on a frosty street corner. Nothing about this feels like it’s going to end with a soft look and foreheads pressed together sweetly. No, in this moment there’s the promise of _more_. More than a kiss. More than a caress.

 

More than one night.

 

He wants that with a desperation that terrifies him. Because despite the heat quickly consuming them, nothing quells the reality that there’s so much more here than lust. This isn’t a blip in the journey of his life. It’s the destination, the path forward. It’s _more_ , and he wants so badly to grab it and never let go, even if the voice in the back of his head tells him to run as fast as he can in the other direction.

 

With a whine on her lips, Amelia slips her hands into his hair and climbs into his lap, silencing his thoughts completely.

 

“Oh,” she breathes, pulling back.

 

It’s hard to say who’s more surprised at her new position. She looks a little stunned from where she straddles him, panting, her hair a wild tangled mess where he’d taken full liberty with it moments ago. His body hardens underneath hers, his arousal straining against his jeans. He’s wanted her for as long as he can remember, but it’s not just the gorgeous picture she presents. It’s her. It’s her fierceness, her goodness, her need to help, her need to protect. And all of that is directed at him right now. She’s so damn stunning in every way possible, so much so that it makes his entire being ache with want.

 

Will stares at her in dumbfounded silence, letting his hands drop to her leather-clad thighs. As if they have a life of their own, they skim up to her hips where he grips her. Her eyes darken with need and it takes everything he has to keep from yanking her down against him.

 

He hopes like hell she doesn’t decide to break his heart again.

 

Amelia’s eyes dart down to his lips before locking on his gaze.

 

“This isn’t about the fight,” she tells him. She touches her fingers to his lips. They’re no longer shaking. Her hand is warm and steady, her fingertips tracing the curves of his mouth. “I don’t want you to think this is unspent energy or anything like that.”

 

His heart climbs into his throat. “Okay,” he manages in a rough, shaky voice.

 

Amelia’s brow furrows and he wonders if she can hear all the doubts he can’t quite shove away.

 

“I _need_ you, Will,” she tells him, cupping his face. Her eyes plead with him to understand. “The thought of something happening to you, of wasting so many chances only for it to all amount to nothing in the end… That’s what pushed me forward. It’s why I crashed through that window and the reason I fought so hard. For you. For _us_. Because I want this with you so much. I… I want everything with you.”

 

He tries to process that. It’s what he’s always wanted to hear from her, so perfect he’s afraid to trust it.

 

Amelia grabs one of his hands and presses his palm directly over her heart. It beats fast and hard against his hand. It’s _racing_. He blinks, looking at where she covers his hand with her own, just to make sure it’s real.

 

He makes her feel this way. The idea that he has this effect on _anyone_ , much less her, throws him.

 

“You make everything better in the hard times,” she recites, swallowing hard as her heart pounds faster. “And you make me want to hold onto the good ones.”

 

The words hit him like an electric jolt, sending him straight back to a snowy car wreck in the middle of nowhere, back when they’d had a very different meaning. God, they’ve come so far since then. He can’t understand it, can scarcely believe it.

 

But he also can’t deny it.

 

Will finally touches her.

 

His thumb grazes the top of her breast, just above the confines of her corset. Her eyelashes flutter and her breath catches as goosebumps ripple over her soft skin. He does that to her. Will drags his thumb over her again, slipping a little lower. He revels in the way her lips part on a moan, how heavy her eyelids get as she stares at him, willing him to understand what’s in her heart.

 

He thinks he does.

 

“I think you’re what I’ve been missing for my whole life,” he says, pressing his hand more fully against her.

 

She shudders, leaning her head back to give him more room when his fingers graze her exposed collarbone. Will cups her neck and urges her back down. She falls into him without hesitation, her hands curling over his shoulders. His fingers slide up her throat, grazing her jaw as his thumb brushes over her lower lip. She arches her back, pressing down against his hardness. His grip on her tightens, his eyes damn near rolling into the back of his head.

 

“I’m ready to stop missing things, Will,” Amelia whispers, moving so her lips touch his.

 

“God, Amelia,” he groans, tipping his head back for her, hoping to hell he isn’t making a mistake. “So am I.”

 

The kiss is earth-shattering. Any doubts he has evaporate in the rush of sensation that crashes over both of them. Their lips come together in a dance of passion, moans and whimpers, wet lips and grasping hands. It’s everything that’s been building between them for years, the back and forth, the push and pull. There isn’t any hesitation, not anymore. There’s only feeling, a zing of electricity that races across his skin at every touch, every kiss, as he breathes her in, drinking her delicious sounds.

 

The aching need that he isn’t sure he’ll ever sate when it comes to this woman resonates to the very core of his being.

 

Amelia’s hands push back into his hair, her nails dragging over his scalp. She rocks against him, thrusting her hips over his, the heat between her thighs readily evident even through her leather pants. The sounds Will makes are barely human as he winds an arm around her waist and pulls her more flush against him. Her breasts crush against his chest and he curses at how good she feels seated in his lap.

 

He slides his hand down to her backside, digging his fingers into her ass as he urges her closer with a ragged, “Honey…”

 

“You keep calling me that,” she breathes, smiling against his mouth before pressing a kiss to his lower lip.

 

“What?” he asks in a daze, fighting to register her words as he chases after her lips. “I do?”

 

She laughs against him, a gorgeous husky sound that comes from deep inside her chest. He stares at her, his mouth hanging open, unable to believe how fucking lucky he is.

 

“You do,” Amelia confirms, dragging a hand along the exposed skin of his neck to trail it down his chest as far as she can with their bodies pressed together so tightly. She looks at him from under thick lashes. “I really like it.”

 

“Good,” he replies in a thick voice. “Get used to it then.”

 

She hums, giving an impish twitch of her eyebrow before she leans in and kisses him again. It’s soft and playful, but no less passionate than what they just shared. It’s a sweet peck, followed by another, and another, interlaced with gentle moans that quickly give way to the fire building between them. Will parts his lips just enough to taste her. The urgency is still there, but the desperation has leveled off, just enough to let him savor the moment. And oh, he wants to savor every single second of this. He touches his tongue to her upper lip and when she opens for him, he tastes her more fully, groaning when her tongue slides against his.

 

It’s slow, sweet, gentle…

 

It’s _everything_. Everything he wants and everything he told himself he couldn’t have.

 

He loves her. He loves everything about her, even if he can’t get himself to say it yet. From the way she smiles to her love of baseball, from the way she kisses to the terrible horror movies she adores, from her stubborn-headed determination to the way the soft curves of her body feel beneath his hands, he loves all of her. And even though he’s been so damned pessimistic lately, he can’t deny how much beauty and hope there is in this, in them. His heart soars at all of the possibilities before them.

 

Like she can hear his thoughts, Amelia groans and tilts her head, deepening the kiss.

 

The tone between them instantly shifts.

 

Just kissing her has firecrackers racing across his skin everywhere she touches, but it’s touching her as much as it is being touched that sets him alight. He wants to make her feel good, wants her body to have even a fraction of what she makes him feel, so much so that it becomes a bone-deep need. He kisses her with renewed urgency, his fingertips racing over every bit of exposed flesh he can find.

 

Amelia gasps, breaking away with a delicious whisper of his name, exposing her throat in blatant invitation.

 

Will drops wet kisses along her jaw, down her neck, tasting every bit of her he can until he reaches her chest.

 

Vigilante suits have never been a fantasy of his, but Amelia always has been. And her in a leather corset as she moans his name and arches her back in invitation will fuel his dreams for years to come.

 

She buries her fingers in his hair, guiding him as he kisses his way to her cleavage. It’s sexy as hell, and he groans his approval, following her lead completely. Part of him wants to rip the thing to pieces, wants to find one of her nipples and wrap his lips around it, sucking and teasing until she’s hoarse from crying out his name. But he wants to take his time. He wants to cherish this… And he wants to drive her absolutely crazy with the want he knows he can make her feel. He explores the ample curves the corset gives him, pressing his face into her softness, licking and sucking her swells in turn as she grips his hair.

 

He maps his way across her skin, noting every spot that makes her shudder or moan or grab his hair a little harder. She isn’t interested in making him guess, either, and that thrills him. He wants to file all of this away, wants to memorize it, wants her to show him everything that makes her feel good for next time.

 

 _Next time_.

 

It’s a heady thought.

 

When he sucks against her skin just above her collarbone, her whole body jerks and she moans his name. It’s a sound that will ring out in his ears for the rest of his life, if he’s lucky. Just the thought of that has his heart thundering in anticipation and disbelief that this is happening at all.

 

“God, Amelia,” he mutters, burying his face in her neck. His hands shake a little as they skim over her body. “You’re just…”

 

“We,” she chokes out.

 

He starts, pulling back to look up at her. Her hair’s a messy halo that frames her face. Her skin is peppered with his reddened love bites, a bright glow coloring her cheeks, her swollen lips turned up in an intimate smile. The sight of her steals the breath from his lungs and makes him want to worship her body for as long as she’ll let him.

 

Forever. He wants to do it forever.

 

“ _We’re_ just,” she corrects. “Not just me.”

 

He stares at her, trying to process that.

 

Warmth encloses his heart. There’s a sense of magic about them together, an air of anticipation and rightness that he can’t imagine either of them having apart. Together, they complete a circuit, and the result is nothing but pure energy surging through his veins. It leaves him dazed and powerful all at once.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers with a nod, gripping her tighter. She licks her lips, rocking her hips slightly into his. His eyes flutter shut, his voice catching. “We. It’s us. We’re just… There’s something here that blows me away. I can’t even describe it.”

 

“I know,” Amelia replies, her lips brushing his before she nuzzles his nose with hers. She presses herself flush against him, fitting so perfectly against his frame that he can’t help but think they were made for each other. “It’s amazing.”

 

God, it is. It’s incredible.

 

She kisses his cheek, before dragging her lips down. She nudges his chin, urging him to tilt his head up. Will does exactly that, reclining back on the sofa, letting her do whatever she wants. When she fixes her lips to the underside of his jaw, he damn near whimpers. His breathing grows erratic as she kisses her way up to his ear, pausing to tug his earlobe between her teeth. Whatever noises he’s making dissolve into a strangled gasp when she rocks against him with more intent. She presses into him harder, right against the bulge in his jeans, sending short, sharp shocks of bliss through his center.

 

He grabs her ass, holding her firmly against him, and she digs in deeper. His fingers knead her flesh and she groans, dropping her head to the sofa beside his, breathing hotly against his ear.

 

“ _Will_ …”

 

He turns, shifting underneath her just enough so he can see her face. Her hair covers her flushed cheeks and closed eyes. Keeping one hand on her backside, Will uses the other to sweep her hair away. The second her eyes flutter open, he rocks up into her. Pleasure creases her face with a shudder.

 

Will watches her face shift as a thought occurs to her.

 

A gorgeous pink colors her chest, sweeping up to her face.

 

“I, uh…” She swallows hard. “It’s been a long time time since I’ve done this.”

 

 _Good_.

 

He barely keeps himself from voicing that, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself.

 

“Since you’ve made out with someone on your sofa?”

 

“For starters,” she replies, biting her lip as a filthy grin covers her face. Oh, he likes that, especially when she rotates her hips against him in a slow grind that has him seeing stars.

 

“Since you’ve had a man in your bed?” Will ventures a little breathlessly.

 

“Or one in my heart,” she admits shyly, her cheeks flushing further.

 

Will stops moving, stops breathing, stops everything as his heart damn near does acrobatics. They’re on a cliff of possibilities with a future he can call theirs is nearly in reach. A future they both want.

 

She wants him in her heart.

 

“Amelia,” he breathes, infusing every single thought he can’t voice into her name.

 

Instead of responding, though, she pushes away from him. Will goes very still. She eases off of him and he lets her go as she stands up.

 

This is it, he thinks, his heart sinking, this is the moment he knew would-

 

“You made a good point,” Amelia says. “We should move this to the bedroom.”

 

He blinks up at her with a look that he’s pretty sure is ridiculous as hell. But she must find it charming because she grins down at him, a playful twinkle in her eye as she backs up slowly. His gaze drops to her breasts, the slim cut of her waist, her hips before rocketing back up to her face. Whatever look he’s giving her seems to feed the urges within her and he can see her growing more confident in her power over him by the moment.

 

It’s unbelievably sexy.

 

Will can’t do anything but watch as she turns and saunters to her bedroom. Her hips sway in a way that has desire tugging at his core, his pants growing tighter. When she reaches the doorway, she glances back at him over her shoulder. She’s a _vision_ , her hair wild and untamed, her eyes dark with need. She watches his face as she reaches back to tug free the ties of her corset. His jaw drops as she unthreads the laces entirely, letting the leather fall to the floor at her feet.

 

His daydreams have never been this vivid and his imagination never this good.

 

Amelia’s hair falls over her shoulder in an inky waterfall, the thick strands begging for his hands to get lost in them. Her bare back is exquisite, thin red lines where her corset had been pressed into her skin standing out starkly. The expanse of her bare back leads down to her leather-clad ass and legs that go on forever. All of it is highlighted by the blatant invitation on her face.

 

For a moment, all he can do is sit on the sofa, painfully turned on and completely overwhelmed.

 

“You coming?” she asks.

 

The instant she turns back to her room, Will’s off the sofa and following in her wake. In a few strides, he’s caught up with her and the second she’s within reach, he grabs her hips and tugs her firmly against his chest. She gives him another husky laugh, leaning back into him, her head falling against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him as he kisses the shell of her ear.

 

“You’re a goddamn tease,” he murmurs, running his other hand up the center of her belly to the generous swell of her breasts. He cups one of them, and it more than fills his hand. Her nipples are already pebbled and he brushes his thumb over one, teasing it further. She sucks in a breath, arching her back, letting him watch himself touch her.

 

Amelia turns her head into his neck with a whispered, “You have no idea,” before tilting her face up to capture his earlobe between her teeth.

 

He moans, leaning into her mouth. “I’m really, really looking forward to finding out.”

 

She laughs, nuzzling behind his ear before turning in the circle of his arms to face him. “So am I,” she replies with a coy smile, draping her arms around his neck.

 

Everything about her is a vision. His feelings for her go way beyond the physical, but she’s also the sexiest woman he’s ever seen and he can’t keep his eyes off of her bare breasts.

 

Amelia chuckles. The motion sets her breasts swaying, enrapturing him all the more. “Men.”

 

“Sorry,” he says, forcing his eyes back up to meet hers. But, then he furrows his brow. “Actually, no, I’m not. I spent a decade picturing you naked and, now that you’re halfway there, I’m going to enjoy every single damned second. Because, holy hell, Amelia, you are worth enjoying.”

 

“Yeah?” she asks, biting into her lip.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“You can enjoy more than looking, you know,” she reminds him.

 

Will grins, pulling her closer. “I have every intention of doing just that.”

 

“Good,” she says, dragging her hands down his chest to the hem of his shirt. “So do I.”

 

An irrational moment of worry races through him as she pulls the fabric up and over his head. It disappears the second his shirt is tossed aside and her fingers start to explore the freshly exposed landscape of his chest and stomach. She’s already seen him. She knows the damage that waits for her. And she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t cringe or treat him like someone who might fall apart at any second. Instead, she can’t seem to get enough of him, running her fingers from his chest to his neck, holding him close as her lips meet his again.

 

“Amelia,” he gasps against her lips as her bare chest brushes against his.

 

She nods, running her hands up over his shoulders as she starts kissing her way down his neck to his chest. A strangled noise slips past his lips, his hands finding her hair as her tongue swipes out to lick his nipple. He’s never been especially sensitive on his chest, but it’s different when it’s Amelia. It’s less about sensation and more about the fact that it’s _her_. And he’s thrown enough by the reality of her kissing and licking a path down his body that it takes a moment for him to realize she’s lowering herself to her knees before him.

 

“Oh my God,” he breathes.

 

She presses a kiss to his scar before looking up at him. “Is this okay?” she asks, running her fingers over the edge of his broken skin. “If you’re not okay with me kissing your scar…”

 

“No, it’s… It’s fine,” Will chokes out. “It’s just… I’ve had a few hundred dreams that started a lot like this, it’s…”

 

It takes him a second to realize what he just admitted. Vulnerability nearly knocks him off his feet, but then a grin spreads across Amelia’s lips. Her eyes dance as she squeezes his thigh through his jeans. His body swells as she asks, “Yeah?”

 

Will nods a little too hard. “Definitely.”

 

“I’ll remember that for later,” she promises, that husky note shading her voice again. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut when she leans in and nips at the skin just above his waistline. “For now,” she continues, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans as she stands up. He opens his eyes in a daze as her fingers move to flip open the button to his fly. “I just want to make love to you. I want you to come inside me because, _God_ , Will, if you think you’ve had a lot of dreams about something…”

 

Will’s breath catches, his gut clenching. For all of his talk about dreams of her on her knees, particularly ones involving her mouth and his scar, the fantasy that pops up the most is one of _her_ fantasizing about _him._

 

It’s more than he could’ve hoped for.

 

“You,” he tells her, cradling her face in his hands, “are all I want. However I can be a part of your life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 

“You’ve got me,” she replies. “All of me. In every way. I think I’ve always been yours. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

 

God help him, he believes her.

 

Will kisses her, a soft, heated union that echoes to the bottom of his soul. There’s nothing rushed about their movements when he toes off his shoes and she tugs down the zipper of his jeans. She pushes them over his hips and he pulls away just enough to yank them off before she’s guiding him to the edge of her bed. He sits, his hands on her hips as he uses his toes to tug his socks off before pulling her to stand between his legs.

 

 _I love you_ , he thinks, staring up at her. _I’ve always loved you. I can’t believe this is real. Please don’t break my heart._

 

He presses a soft kiss to her belly, earning a quiet sigh. Amelia threads her fingers through his hair and he leans in closer, kissing his way to her hip as his hand drifts to the zipper of her leather pants. They’re tight and it takes more than wriggling to peel them off her thighs. But after a moment, he finally works them down enough that the scent of fresh leather gives way to the scent of _her_ and he has to stop and press his forehead to her abdomen, breathing her in.

 

“Will,” she moans, scraping her nails over his scalp. He shudders.

 

“Yeah?” he grunts, his eyes catching her barely-there black lace panties.

 

“Honey, the boots have to come off first,” she tells him.

 

“What?”

 

“The pants aren’t coming off before the boots,” she elaborates.

 

“You called me honey,” he says.

 

Amelia falters, a blush warming her cheeks. “Is that okay?”

 

“Yes,” Will says with an emphatic nod, wrapping a hand around the back of one of her thighs. He pulls her leg up so he can unzip her boot. He kisses her inner thigh just above her knee, making her suck in a ragged breath. She grabs his shoulders for stability as he says against her skin, “It’s more than okay.”

 

“G-good.” He tugs her boot off and repeats the process with her other foot before slipping his hands inside her pants. Her legs are so incredibly smooth compared to his rough palms as he starts pulling the leather down. “Will…”

 

The minute she’s out of her shoes and pants, he grabs her knees and lifts her onto his lap so that she’s straddling him. She yelps at the sudden move, a grin lighting her face as she settles against him, adjusting her legs to wrap around his waist. She locks her ankles together and winds her arms around his neck.

 

“Hi,” he says, running his fingers over her shoulders and down her naked back.

 

“Hey,” Amelia replies, dragging her nails through his scruff before grabbing his chin and kissing him again.

 

Time slips away from them as they lose themselves in each other. The slow, steady exploration of each other’s bodies is intoxicating, fanning the flames. He marvels at how soul-shaking a kiss can be with her, how a simple touch of her fingers sets his nerves on fire with sensation. As wonderful as it is, their need slowly takes over. Kisses become more urgent, their touches more scintillating.

 

Will hooks his fingers in the lacy edge of her panties. “I want you bare.”

 

She groans and nods rapidly.

 

Amelia unwinds herself from around him and, using his shoulders for leverage, climbs off his lap. Will swallows hard, watching with hooded lids as she shimmies out of the black lacy underwear. She’s the most incredible sight he’s ever seen.

 

When she comes back to him, a sound that might be a whine escapes his lips. She pushes against his shoulder and he gets the message loud and clear, lying back so he’s fully reclined on her bed. Eyes never leaving his, she crawls after him.

 

All he can do is watch her in dumbfounded silence as she settles over him. Her breasts sway, her hair cascades around her, cocooning them in their own little world.

 

“Damn,” he mutters.

 

Will runs his fingers through the long strands of her hair surrounding them before moving to graze her breastbone. His eyes drop to watch his hands as they find her breasts, cupping them both. They’re heavy in his hands and he massages them, tugging slightly. She gives him a wispy sigh and he does it again before one hand slips lower. He drags his fingers over her abdomen, delighting in how it flutters with her light pants. He circles her belly button, eliciting a shiver. Goosebumps break out across her skin and her dusky nipples tighten even more. He can smell her arousal already and he has to stop himself from tugging her up and burying his face in her folds. He wants to, more than he can express. He wants to make her feel so good that she can’t stand it. But that’s for later. Right now, he needs to touch her, to explore.

 

His hand slips lower.

 

“Will,” she gasps as his fingers skate over her mound.

 

His eyes snap back up to hers, watching her lids flutter and her mouth open on a desperate bid for oxygen. “I want to touch you,” he tells her.

 

“Yes,” Amelia gasps, nodding furiously as she leans forward to grab the headboard.

 

It’s erotic as hell.

 

He slips his fingers over her sex. She’s wet - so wet - and he groans, pressing his fingers closer to her core. If he thought her grabbing the headboard was sexy, that’s nothing compared to the way she watches him as he touches her. Her hips rock into his hand and he presses the tip of his finger inside her opening.

 

If it’s even possible, her pupils blow wider.

 

His slickened fingers find her clit and her brow knits as she moans lowly.

 

“There we are,” he murmurs, rubbing her before pushing a finger inside her. “Look at you.”

 

“ _Oh,_ ” she breathes, working herself against his hand. He adds another finger as a fresh rush of her arousal drenches his hand. It’s incredible, the way she responds to him, the sounds she makes, the way she shakes and trembles. Her breasts hang above him, swaying with her slight movements, so close, but so far away.

 

Will pushes up onto the elbow of his free arm and dips his head to capture her nipple between his lips.

 

Amelia’s jaw drops on a hoarse keen, her hold on the headboard faltering as her knees get weak. He tugs more of her breast into his mouth, his tongue laving her nipple. It must be more than she can take, because she effectively collapses against him. He falls back on the pillows, not letting her go as the move pushes his fingers deeper inside her. She grasps his shoulders, thrusting on his hand…

 

Her ass rubs right against his cock, making him moan around her nipple.

 

God, he’s not going to last long if that keeps up, which is something she seems to know.

 

“Boxers off,” Amelia rasps, sitting up. He lets her nipple go with a pop and the sight of her breast wet from his mouth is nearly enough to push him over the edge. She pulls his hand away before he can do much of anything and scoots down his body. “Condom.”

 

Right. He always keeps one in his wallet. He has since high school, and if he can just…

 

“Oh shit,” Will breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “My wallet’s still at the foundation. Damn it. Damn, that… It’s okay, we can just…” His voice is strangled and it cuts off when she makes a noise that’s nearly a laugh.

 

“The nightstand,” Amelia says, crawling back up to touch his face with a smile. “I meant for you to grab one.”

 

“Oh thank God,” Will says on a laugh as she leans over to pull open the nightstand drawer. She pulls out what has to be the largest box of condoms he’s ever seen. “That’s… a hefty supply. I mean, that’s great, because it means you’re incredibly prepared, unlike me.”

 

“Housewarming gift from one of my friends,” she tells him, tearing the box open and grabbing one.

 

“Your friend got you an industrial-sized variety pack of condoms as a housewarming gift?”

 

“That and a bottle of tequila,” Amelia replies. She glances at the packaging. “This one glows in the dark.”

 

“Glow in the dark is fine,” Will says. “But I have no intention of turning out the lights. I don’t want to miss a single minute of watching you.”

 

A slow smile pulls at her lips as she tears the package open. “Me either.”

 

“We can try something else next time,” he says with a wink. “Looks like we’ve got a lot to go through.”

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You think we’ll go through _all_ the condoms?”

 

“Well, not tonight,” he amends, smoothing his hands up the backs of her legs to cup her ass. “But sooner or later.”

 

His words ring with a promise of the future, and he only realizes that when she pauses above him. He has a momentary surge of panic before he sees the smile on her face is soft and… hopeful.

 

Will’s stomach swoops at that.

 

“Sooner or later,” she echoes. “And we’ll always remember it started with a glow in the dark condom from Celeste.”

 

“I’ll send her a thank you card.”

 

Amelia laughs. “She’d love that,” she says. She stares at him with a gentle, awed look he can’t quite quantify. “She’d love you.”

 

“That’s nice,” Will replies, brushing her hair from her cheek. “But it’s not how she feels that matters to me right now.”

 

She bites her lip. “I feel like… I’ve been waiting for this for half my life.”

 

Will’s breath catches. He sits up without warning, cupping her face and kissing her. It’s a quiet, gentle kiss that somehow captures every facet of the moment in one fell swoop.

 

“I know exactly how you feel,” he murmurs against her lips.

 

Amelia smiles, kisses him once more, and then she pushes him back, shimmying down his body. She tugs his boxers down as she goes, tossing them aside, before taking a moment to soak in the sight of him.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Will.”

 

It’s the last thing he expects to hear, and he lets out a short bark of laughter.

 

“You are,” she insists, running her hand up his thigh. “Every inch of you.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “Every inch, huh?”

 

Amelia rolls her eyes. “I mean it,” she says, circling her nails in the fine hairs of his thigh before glancing at his erection. “But I definitely mean those inches, too.”

 

He chuckles, but the sound dies the second her fingers trail up his length. He watches her as she rolls the condom on, his breathing picking up as his cock swells under her touch. When she licks her lips, it’s all he can do to keep himself from grabbing her.

 

She slowly crawls back up his body, straddling him again. She presses close, his erection slipping through her wetness as she nuzzles his cheek.

 

“I’m so grateful we have this chance,” she whispers, her hand drifting down to touch his scar. She pulls back to look at him and he clings to the emotion shining in her eyes. “I’m so glad you fought so hard to live.”

 

“I’m…” He bites his instinctive reply back. That’s not what he’s been doing, not by a long shot. But now’s not the time. This moment is about them. That’s what matters right now. Will trembles underneath her as he reaches up to hold her face. “I gave up on the idea of us getting here years ago. I’m glad I was wrong.”

 

“Me too.” She kisses him. “But maybe we were meant to come together like this all along.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, his hands falling to her thighs as she rises up above him. He hisses when she grasps him and positions him at her entrance.

 

“Ready?” she asks.

 

“For you? Is there such a thing?”

 

“Will…”

 

“Yeah, honey,” he says, his hands settling on her hips. “I’m ready.”

 

Eyes never leaving his, Amelia lowers herself on him. Her face slackens as he fills her, her mouth falling open in a shuddery sigh as she takes all of him.

 

For a moment, she doesn’t move. She’s trembling, or maybe he is, he’s not entirely sure anymore. It’s been a damn long time since he’s been with a woman. And, even though they haven’t talked about it, he suspects it’s been at least as long for her. Sex isn’t the sort of thing someone forgets, but still…

 

This is different. The connection between them, their investment in each other, in treasuring this moment... It takes Will’s breath away as much as it heightens absolutely everything.

 

When she finally starts moving, it’s _incredible_.

 

“Oh,” Amelia breathes, planting a hand on his chest for leverage. “Oh wow.”

 

He knows exactly what she means.

 

Will skims his hand up her side and trails his fingers down the edge of her arm, stroking the soft skin at the inner curve of her elbow. She moans, digging her nails into his chest as she moves faster. His touch falters, his eyes rolling shut with a moan. She’s so tight and wet and she feels so damned good. A hot coil of pleasure tightens with each of her thrusts.

 

He wants this to last. _Needs_ it to last. He wants her to feel more, wants to live in this moment.

 

“Will,” she moans. He runs his fingers with feather-lightness across the swell of her breasts and she arches her back, silently begging for more. He doesn’t give it to her, skimming over her nipples instead before traveling down her body. He slides his hands over the back of her thighs, up to her ass. “Will…”

 

That desperate sound coming from her has his pleasure burning hotter.

 

A dewy sheen of sweat makes her skin glimmer in the low lights of her bedroom. She’s close, but not nearly close enough.

 

“Kiss me, Amelia,” he murmurs.

 

She falls over him, her lips finding his in a kiss that seems to fuse their souls together. His fingers trace up her spine, one hand moving to cup the back of her neck. She breaks away with a whine, her brow pinching in concentration, her hips moving faster.

 

“Amelia,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers. Her hair falls around them, every breath she draws is stolen from his lips, locking them in their own world. The intimacy of their position strikes him with awe and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Honey…”

 

He slips a hand between them. There’s just enough space for him to find her clit again.

 

“Oh God,” she whines when she realizes what he’s doing.

 

“I’ve got you, honey,” he promises, rubbing her. “I want to see you come, my love. Show me.”

 

“Oh God, Will,” she gasps, driving herself down against his cock harder, faster. It’s so much he has to fight to keep his eyes open, gritting his teeth against his own pleasure. “Oh _God_. Will… _Will_.”

 

Her whole face crumples in a silent scream as she jerks against him, losing all rhythm. She’s stunning, her skin flushed and covered in sweat. Her hair’s a mess, her makeup smeared. She’s by far the most incredible sight he’s ever seen. It’s a gift to see her fly apart like this, much less be part of it.

 

With her body clenching around him and the sight of her pleasure, all it takes is two more pumps before he’s joining her.

 

He gasps her name, white sheeting over his eyes as he clings to her, his hands shooting down to her ass to guide her movements. He rides it out, thrusting up into her, losing himself in her depths. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel as his body sings under her touch. With one final cry, he falls in a boneless, shell-shocked heap.

 

“Oh my God,” Amelia moans, collapsing on top of him. “That was…”

 

“Oh my God,” he agrees, because there are no other words.

 

“Yeah.” She places a kiss against the underside of his jaw, as she strokes a single finger down his side. She leaves electricity in her wake. After a long moment of catching their breath, she says, “I was right, you know.”

 

“Oh?” he asks, running his fingers up and down her spine. “About something in particular, or just in general?”

 

“Every inch of you is beautiful,” she tells him, propping her chin on her palm. “But especially like this.”

 

“Guess I’ll have to spend a lot of time in your bed, then.”

 

“I’m counting on it,” Amelia says before biting her lip. “Starting tonight.”

 

His fingers still. “You want me to stay?”

 

“I’d like that,” she tells him, dragging a finger over his collarbone. “I want to sleep in your arms and wake up knowing none of this was a dream.”

 

A slow smile pulls at his lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’d like that, too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” He leans up to press a lingering kiss to her sweaty brow. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, honey. How’s that sound?”

 

“Perfect. There’s nothing I’d like more.”

 

She glows with a happiness he’s never seen before and his heart somersaults knowing he’s the one who brought her that joy. For the first time in a long time, a bubble of excitement for the future wells up in him and the voices of doubt that live in the back of his head are nowhere to be found.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing her. “Me either.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole story is edited! Start to finish, Providence has taken almost exactly seven months to complete. For the next few months, I'm working on an original novel, planned to be the first in a series that in some ways will mirror the original characters and the dynamics between them of FiCoN. I'm both nervous and excited. Keep an eye out this week for a PoA chapter - there's a scene I wanted to do between this chapter and the next and it wasn't in the story. It should drop Wednesday, I think. And there will also be a PoA chapter next Monday in addition to the regular Providence posting. But for now... enjoy Will and Amelia's morning after (they certainly do!)

When Amelia wakes the next morning, her first thought is that she fell asleep under Will’s coat again. 

 

But then the soft stroke of his fingers along her bare arm tell her she is oh-so-wrong.

 

Reality is  _ so _ much better than that.

 

She hums and burrows further into Will’s arms, savoring the heat of his body against hers. Amelia nudges her leg between his, delighting in the rough hair of his stubble scraping over her skin as she pushes her face into his neck. She’s surrounded by the feel and scent of him. It’s the stuff of her daydreams, but so much more visceral, so much more  _ real _ . 

 

She never wants to leave her bed again.

 

Will chuckles, his hand drifting in lazy circles down her spine. “You’re like a kitten.”

 

Amelia tilts her head back to meet his eye with an amused lift of her eyebrow. But when she catches sight of him, her breath hitches. Will’s always gorgeous, but first thing in the morning? With messy hair and daylight spilling across his naked skin? It’s a whole different level.

 

Then he grins and her heart stops.

 

“Even when you’re asleep, you keep curling up against me,” he continues, his voice filled with early morning gravel. A tiny shiver slices down her spine as desire coils in the pit of her stomach. He brushes a stray lock of hair from her forehead, tucking it back. She hums when his fingers massage her ear. “The noises you make when I touch you might as well be a purr.”

 

“You’re good at making me purr,” she murmurs. His eyes light up and she grins. “I like when you touch me. Being with you makes me feel special.”

 

“You are special,” Will replies, like it’s a simple fact.

 

Amelia stares at him for a beat. She doesn’t know how to explain that it’s a rarity for a man to treat her this way, to make her feel like this. She’s never been this cherished. The way he touches her like his hands need to memorize the feel of her skin, the way he looks at her like she’s the most important person in the world, those things are unique to him. She swallows thickly. It makes her head spin.  _ He _ makes her head spin.

 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks, running his fingers along the curve of her jaw to trace his thumb across her lower lip. She kisses the pad of his thumb, reveling in his sharp inhale.

 

“Best night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” Amelia tells him with a small grin. She strokes his chest with her fingers as her toes run up and down his calf. “You?”

 

Will lets out a short laugh. “I’m not convinced I’ve woken up yet.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

“I am?” He raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

 

“Because this is the realest thing I’ve ever known.” Amelia nudges his nose with hers. “And I’m convinced it is for you, too.”

 

Will doesn’t reply. Instead he stares at her like he’s drinking her in, and it’s so much better. He runs his hand down her back and over her ass, gently squeezing one cheek. It fans the desire unfurling deep inside her, but it’s a slow and lazy thing, leaving room for an intimacy she’s never experienced before. Amelia cups the back of his neck and pulls him closer for a kiss. An unsteady sigh ghosts across her lips when they touch his, like he’s been waiting for this moment to prove to himself that the whole thing was real.

 

She nods and he moans, tugging her even closer as he kisses her more fully. 

 

The tension bleeds out of him as they take their time, exploring each other as thoroughly as possible. She has every intention of proving just how real this is, with every word, every touch, every sigh, until he never questions it again.

 

If he’ll let her.

 

When they break apart, Will presses his forehead to hers with another soft exhale as he hugs her close. It’s more relaxed, more secure, and she confirms that feeling by tightening her legs around one of his, pulling his thigh between her knees. She wants to tangle them together completely, to spend the whole day lost in each other.

 

“What are we?” she asks without warning. Fear ripples through her body at her own question stated so bluntly. Will stiffens slightly and Amelia pulls back to see his face, trying to ignore how far her heart drops at his stony expression.

 

Her anxiety spikes when he doesn’t answer right away.

 

Will’s gaze drops to her lips. “What do you want us to be?” 

 

_ Everything. I want us to be everything. _

 

“I want to be yours,” Amelia ventures. Her voice shakes and she swallows hard to steady herself, but it doesn’t work very well. That doesn’t stop her, though. She’s run from this too many times. She’s waited for too long to get here. She isn’t willing to let her life slip by anymore. “And I want you to be mine.” She pauses, taking a deep breath before forging ahead with naked vulnerability, her heart completely exposed. “I  _ love _ you. I’ve loved you for so many years. And I want this - I want  _ us _ \- more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

 

Will’s eyes widen, shock and what she hopes is awe staring back at her.

 

But he doesn’t say anything.

 

“I-I wanted to tell you last night,” she says. Her fingers start worrying a nervous pattern against the skin of his neck. They barely skirt across the edge of the massive tattoo across the back of his shoulder, tracing along the angel’s wingtips. “I didn’t because I didn’t want you to think it was a heat of the moment thing. It’s not. This isn’t a new feeling. Every road in my life has led me back to you, time and time again. And when I’m with you, I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m at my best. And whatever happens next with us, I need you to know that I’m choosing you. I’ll choose you every time.”

 

“Amelia…” 

 

“I just feel like-”

 

“I love you, too,” he interrupts. Amelia freezes, her eyes widening as his words wash over her. A sob of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in falls out and she squeezes her eyes shut for a second before looking at him. “I never stopped,” Will adds. “I tried to. I wanted to move on. But in the end, no one else was you.”

 

Amelia nods in a short, sharp motion, pressing the back of her fingers to her mouth. He leans in to kiss her and she meets him halfway.

 

The touch of his lips against hers sears her with promises of the future.

 

“I love you,” she says, savoring her ability to say each word aloud.

 

The press of his smile against her mouth sends her heart soaring. “I love you, too, honey.”

 

“‘Honey’ again?” Amelia asks as she pulls back. She not-so-secretly delights in it. On anyone else’s lips, it would sound corny, even forced, but it’s different coming from him. He believes it when he says it. It  _ means _ something. 

 

“Well, you’re pretty sweet,” Will replies, letting his gaze drop to her chest where it’s pressed against his.

 

“I can be spicy, too,” Amelia says. She tugs the corner of her lip between her teeth, arching an eyebrow at him.

 

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Will replies. “But people might start asking questions if I call you cayenne in public.”

 

Amelia giggles. “In public, huh?”

 

“Yeah. It’d be asking a lot for me to bite my tongue about my girlfriend.”

 

Her cheeks flush with utter delight. “Your girlfriend?” she repeats softly.

 

“You prefer lover?” he teases. “Better half, maybe? Soulmate?”

 

“Maybe I’m greedy,” Amelia says, running her hand down his chest. “Maybe I want it all.”

 

His breath catches when she slips her hand past his belly button. His slow exhale dissolves in a strained noise as her fingers hit the sensitive skin where a thin line of hair leads downward. Amelia licks her lip, a slow grin stealing over her face as she watches him. It only grows when he gives her a warning look.

 

“You definitely want  _ something _ ,” he tells her in a gritty voice that does delicious things to her insides.

 

“Mhmm.” She draws lazy patterns against his skin as she works her way down. When her wrist brushes against his cock, he groans, his hips shifting towards her of their own accord. His thigh is still wedged between her legs and the movement has him pressing up against her core. He pushes his thigh higher, spreading her legs to press more fully against her, earning a pleased sigh. “For being new at this boyfriend thing, you’re really good at reading what I want.”

 

“Well,” he says, running his hand back down her side to her ass. He palms it and squeezes. A low groan rumbles in her throat and she arches her back, pressing her chest against his and pushing her ass into his hand. “You make it really easy. Especially when what you want is me.”

 

“Always,” she breathes before their lips meet.

 

Will kisses with a hunger that thrills her. The tension between them mounts as he eases her back against the mattress. He yanks the sheets out of the way and settles between her thighs, his hands cupping her head, his fingers in her hair, pinning her in place. He angles his face to deepen the kiss just as he rocks against her. His cock is so hard and thick as he slips through the wetness waiting for him between her thighs. 

 

“Will,” she gasps, desperate for more. He kisses away her needy sounds before abandoning her lips to kiss the underside of her chin. He finds a sensitive spot and sucks, leaving her crying out and fisting his hair to keep him right there. Her voice is hoarse and used as she croaks, “Oh God…  _ Will _ …”

 

“I love the sound of that coming from you,” he mumbles against her neck. The vibrations of his voice rumble against her skin and it makes her hiss. She screws her eyes shut and arches her back, pushing her chest toward him.

 

He takes the hint.

 

Will moves unhurriedly as he kisses his way down her throat. Need skitters over her skin, an aching want echoing deep inside her core as she pants, every inch of her attention focused on his lips. At first he presses hot, open-mouth kisses around the swell of her breast, working his way to where she craves him…

 

But instead he avoids her nipple and goes down the other side.

 

With a whine, Amelia grips his hair and tries to redirect him. He has the nerve to laugh and her eyes snap open to glare down at him only to find him watching her already. Their gazes don’t break as his lower lip brushes across her nipple, barely grazing it.

 

She huffs. “Will…”

 

“Did you want something, Amelia?” he asks with a coy grin, the heat of his breath tumbling across her skin, tightening her nipples further. It drives her crazy as much as it escalates the carnal desire surging through her veins.

 

“And here I thought you were good at reading me,” she goads.

 

He chuckles - he  _ chuckles, _ as if this is actually funny - but before she can give him a tongue lashing, he gives her one of his own, licking a long, slow swipe across her nipple. It’s the fact that his eyes never leave her face, that he watches her so intently, that sets her nerves on fire with sensation.

 

Amelia moans, wrapping her legs around him and digging her heels into his bare ass.

 

It barely earns her anything as he flicks the tip of his tongue across the pained peak of her nipple. He’s being such a fucking tease and she groans even louder, her breaths coming in harsher pants as she grabs his hair tight, her eyes on his wicked tongue. 

 

Without warning he closes his lips around her nipple and  _ sucks, _ pushing the peaked bud up against the roof of his mouth as he rubs his tongue back and forth across it.

 

The noise she makes isn’t anything remotely human.

 

Will’s hand finds her other breast and he pinches and teases her nipple, building her ache for him even more. She shudders, her hips rocking, mindless noises falling from her lips. Before she can get used to the assault, he switches, sucking her other nipple into his mouth as he grabs the back of her thigh and hikes her leg up over his hip.

 

“ _ Oh _ ,” she breathes as her core presses against his stomach. Her arousal smears all over him and every time he moves even a little, a jolt of pleasure shoots straight through her. “Oh God, Will… Condom. We need a-”

 

“Mm, no,” he says, releasing her nipple and pressing a soft kiss to the top of it. Amelia blinks, certain she heard him wrong. “Not for what I have in mind.”

 

She frowns as he starts kissing his way down her stomach. “What? What are you…?”

 

“I said I’d make you breakfast, didn’t I?” Will plants his chin on her belly button and looks up at her with a filthy grin. He licks his lips. “I plan to follow through on that.”

 

Her brain short-circuits as she works out what he means. Her nerves bubble up and her heart jumps as an anxious knot tightens in her stomach. “Oh, you… I mean, you don’t have to do… that.”

 

Will blinks. Furrowing his brow, he props himself up on his elbow, his other hand finding her hip. He gives her a soft smile as he says, “I know I don’t have to. Do you not want me to?”

 

The knot in her stomach does the talking for her as it tightens to the point of pain, making her flinch.

 

“Hey,” he says gently, the mood shifting in an instant. That does nothing to help ease her nerves, as a shamed flush rockets over her cheeks. Will scoots up to lay next to her. “Amelia, I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do, okay? We’re in this together. It doesn’t matter if that’s what I want, if you don’t want it, too.”

 

Amelia laughs, a short, stark burst that hurts her throat. “You  _ want _ to go down on me?” 

 

Will’s eyebrows shoot up before something clicks, and then his eyes narrow. “I absolutely do,” he tells her in a voice that heads right for her center. “Hell yes, I want to.”

 

“But that’s…” She pauses, shaking her head. “Not  _ really,  _ though, right? I mean, that’s… Guys tend to just… They complain about it, and I don’t want you to feel like you-”

 

He whispers out a curse. “You’ve had some really shitty lovers.”

 

Well, that’s true, but also…

 

Amelia bites her lip, giving him a pitiful smile. “You don’t have to, Will. It doesn’t really do much for me anyway.”

 

“Well of course it doesn’t,” Will replies and she blanches. He settles in closer to her, sweeping his hand down her arm. “You’ve been with selfish men who probably treated going down on you like a once in a lifetime event and then patted themselves on the back for their heroic attempt. They had no clue what they were doing. And if they treated it like a chore, how the hell were you supposed to enjoy it?”

 

Doubt plagues her. “Well…”

 

“Tell me this,” he says, brushing hair away from her face. “Was your first time ever having sex great?”

 

“No,” she replies immediately, which makes her laugh. “Not even close.”

 

“How about the second and third time? What about the  _ tenth _ time?”

 

“Well,” she muses. “It got better.”

 

“Exactly,” Will says. “So why the hell do you think it would be any different with oral sex? No one knows what they’re doing at the start. That’s why you  _ keep doing it.” _

 

She sees the logic he’s reaching for, even understands it, but the knot twists. What if he’s wrong? What if it’s just her? What if she’s not good enough or her body doesn’t respond like he wants, even when it’s him? She’s not sure she could take the disappointment she knows she’d see in his eyes.

 

“Amelia,” Will says, reading her like a book. She bites her lip again, moving to curl in on herself, but he stops her. His hand finds her cheek, the look on his face pinning her in place. “There is very little in the world I want more than to have your legs draped over my shoulders and your hands in my hair as you scream and break and buck against me. I have always liked going down on a woman and I can only imagine how incredible it would be if it was  _ you.  _ Everything’s better with you. But if you don’t want to, then we won’t. It’s as simple as that. If you change your mind one day, we will. If not… Honey, there’s plenty of other things we can do.”

 

The image he paints has heat whipping through her. It’s as much what he describes as it is the way he says it, the way his eyes darken, his pupils widening. The sight of his flushed cheeks has hers warming, especially when her eyes dart down to his lips, imagining them between her thighs.

 

Much to her surprise, a rush of wetness follows.

 

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asks, a little desperately. She wants to believe him, but there’s a clamp around her gut. “The smell? The taste?”

 

“If you had any idea how many daydreams I’ve had about going down on you, you would not be asking me that,” he replies, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “ _ Man, _ you’ve had some really terrible lovers. You smell like a woman, Amelia. You’re supposed to. And any man who doesn’t think that’s mouthwatering is an idiot.”

 

Amelia huffs out a little laugh and grabs Will’s free hand with hers, twining their fingers together. He probably knows he’s knocking on her ex-fiance. The two men hate each other for a laundry list of reasons, most of which boil down to her. But he’s also not wrong. She can count on one hand how many times a man tried to go down on her. Three of them were Thad and all three were on her birthdays. He’d dropped snide comments about it every chance he got until she eventually told him she’d rather skip the experience altogether in the future. All he’d given her was a distracted, “If that’s what you want,” before reminding her what color tie he was going to wear to an upcoming event so she could coordinate. Her other two experiences weren’t anything to write home about. Both back in college, one with a guy who acted like it was a sacrifice he deserved a medal for, and the other with a boyfriend she dated for a few months who wrongly thought he was God’s gift to women in the bedroom.

 

But Will… 

 

“I just don’t want to ruin things if it doesn’t go well,” she admits, glancing down to where she plays with his fingers. “This has been so perfect and I’m kind of terrified I’m going to destroy it somehow.”

 

“Can’t happen,” Will replies. “Not like that. It’s you and it’s me. It’s already going well.”

 

“What if… What if it just doesn’t work for me?” Amelia asks, her face heating even more. The way Will blinks at her as if she said something insane doesn’t help. “I’ve never gotten much out of it, honestly.”

 

“And you think that’s because of  _ you?” _

 

“I am the common factor here,” she defends with an anxious shrug.

 

His furrowed brow smoothes out as realization hits him. “And you’re worried I’ll take it personally if I go down on you and you don’t come. That’s what this is about, right?”

 

She opens her mouth to argue, but the words aren’t there. Instead she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and nods.

 

“You might not,” he admits, stroking hair away from her face again before letting his fingers linger against the arch of her cheekbone. “Not the first time, not if you’re this worried about it. All the best parts of sex are mental. But practice helps, right? ...This is something you should think about for a bit. We shouldn’t rush into anything. We’ve got time.”

 

The strangest surge of panic strikes right in the center of her chest. It’s irrational and stupid and it probably has way more to do with her freakout than she can possibly comprehend, but it’s still there. It pulses, squeezing until… 

 

“No, I want to.”

 

Will’s eyebrows shoot up. He stares at her, his lips curling into a half-smile that does nothing to alleviate the wariness in his voice when he says, “Amelia…”

 

“I do,” she insists, swallowing hard. 

 

“I don’t want you to do this because you think you have to.”

 

“That’s not why,” Amelia replies, shaking her head. “I want to try it. I do. With you. As long as you want to and you’re not going to be upset if it doesn’t go great.”

 

Will gives her a disbelieving look before echoing his earlier sentiment. “Honey, it’s us. It’s already great.”

 

She smacks his shoulder. “You know what I mean!”

 

“I do,” he says. “And if you think I’m ever going to be unhappy about having you naked in bed, I haven’t been clear enough.”

 

“Sounds like something you should work on then.” She gives him a shy smile and when he grins back, she bites her lip. “Practice helps, right?”

 

“Oh?” There’s a playful light in his eyes and pure trouble in his voice. It sends a bolt of desire straight to her core, shoving aside the knot. It lingers, but the look on his face is very distracting. Especially after it morphs into a smirk when he eases her onto her back again and hovers over her. His voice is husky as he asks, “Is that right?” 

 

“My boyfriend says so,” she replies. The pleasure that simple word obviously gives him is stunningly sexy and she leans into it. “He seems to know what he’s talking about.”

 

“Maybe he does,” Will says. “But talk is cheap. The proof is in what you do.”

 

Amelia looks him dead in the eye and speaks slowly, dragging out every word. “Then prove it to me, Will.”

 

The kiss that follows promises he’ll do that and more. His mouth moves against her with a passion that bursts through the last of her reservations. With a moan, she falls into the sensation, into him, knowing he’ll be there to catch her. That’s the sexiest part, she realizes as she tugs him closer, her tongue meeting his as their lips part. He’s  _ here.  _

 

And it has her reeling.

 

Rather, he does.

 

It’s easy to get caught up in the moment with this man. He has a way of honing her focus in on details, prompting her to live in the present. It’s always been that way with him, even when they were sitting side-by-side at a bar brushing pinkies together when they shouldn’t have. But now, with every bit of him dedicated to her, being swept away is as natural as breathing.

 

She almost forgets that they’ve already talked through what’s coming next.

 

When he leaves her lips and starts kissing a path down her body, she tenses. It takes all of her willpower to relax.  _ Stop it. _ This is  _ Will. _ If her damned self-defeating nervousness ruins everything, she’s going to feel awful no matter how Will takes it. And yet, it’s tempting to call it quits right here. Part of her wants to stop him before he goes any further. But another side of her  _ wants _ this. Partly because she’s wondered for so many years what the big deal is and partly because sharing this with Will… 

 

The look on his face when he described what he would do to her surfaces in her mind and she shivers.  _ Oh, _ that part is definitely something she wants. The idea of sharing something so intimate is enticing.

 

And terrifying. Definitely terrifying. The very last thing she wants is to disappoint him and she’s already disappointed him so many times… 

 

As if he knows exactly what she’s thinking, he’s unhurried in his exploration. He  _ meanders. _ He cherishes little patches of skin, tracing the line of her hip with his lips, pausing to kiss a series of freckles on her lower belly. There’s nothing rushed about him at all. And, little by little, she relaxes under his affections.

 

She doesn’t tense when he works his way between her legs, gently urging her to spread them. When he kisses her inner thigh, she sighs. And she bites her lip in anticipation more than anything else when his nose grazes the crease between her leg and her sex.

 

The low, appreciative moan he lets out helps.

 

She feels…  _ sexy. _

 

Wanted.

 

Amelia runs her fingers through his hair, soaking in the sight of his head between her legs.

 

“Will,” she breathes.

 

He looks up, watching her as he presses his lips to her thigh again. His scruff scrapes against her skin and she hums at the sensation, her eyelids fluttering. Oh, she’s going to remember that alone for days.

 

“And you thought  _ I _ was beautiful,” he says as he slides a finger inside her. A stuttered gasp dissolves into a groan and she digs her toes into the mattress, her hips instinctively moving to meet him. “Every bit of you is incredible, Amelia Prescott.”

 

She’s more aroused than she thought. The gentle press of his finger filling her leaves her shaking for more, desire whipping her into a sudden fervor that leaves her whimpering. He adds another finger, and it’s so easy - she’s so wet - all the while watching her like he can see inside her soul.

 

_ “Oh,” _ she whines, her legs starting to tremble.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, as he moves to kiss her hip again. His words fuel the fire inside her, leaving her stuttering for air.

 

It’s the most natural thing in the world that her thigh winds up draped over his shoulder as his lips follow the line of her hip. It’s only the heat of his breath against her skin that tells her he’s still saying those words, repeating the devotion over and over as he maps her body with his mouth. She pulses with need, a bone-deep want that she can’t describe. 

 

“Will,” she begs, digging her heel into his back,  _ “please.” _

 

Her heart beats in her throat as he settles between her thighs again. Their gaze never breaks as he parts her folds with his free hand and licks a long strip up the length of her sex. She chokes on air. The hint of something incredible lingers just beneath the surface of her skin. It coils deep in her core and leaves her clenching around his fingers. 

 

But it’s also nowhere near enough. And, if she paused to think about it, she’d know it wasn’t supposed to be.

 

Not yet. He’s just getting started.

 

Will rubs the tip of his tongue up and down against her clit, mimicking what he’d done to her nipples. Any hope of thinking flies right out the window as a buzz of pleasure swarms her. The moan that fills the room is hers, but she doesn’t recognize it. She tries to stroke her fingers through his hair again, but then he breathes hotly against her most sensitive skin as he licks and she ends up clenching the thick strands in a tight fist. She doesn’t let go as he begins to work at her in earnest. 

 

She can’t. 

 

“Oh God, Will,” Amelia gasps. He pulls his fingers out and presses them back inside her, slowly setting up a rhythm that works in time with his tongue against her clit. Her hand twists in his hair as sensation swamps her, leaving her too far gone to care. “Oh  _ God…” _

 

He’s relentless in his eagerness as he devours her. All of his attention is focused on pleasuring her, from his tongue to his fingers to the way he moans against her to his hand flattening over her pubic bone, keeping her nether lips spread wide. 

 

It’s  _ incredible. _

 

Everything is blissfully warm and wet and the pressure is steady and in exactly the right spot. She’s quickly spiraling and before she can even hope to process that, it sweeps her up and away.

 

A high-pitched whine gets stuck in her throat as she clutches his hair harder. Her feet scramble up his back and her shoulders press against the mattress, arching her back as she climbs higher and higher. She can’t catch her breath, can’t think, can’t even see. Everything is reduced to feeling. And  _ oh, _ there’s so much to feel, so much it’s overwhelming. The way he coaxes her body, the heights he brings her to as everything rises to a fever pitch are beyond paralleled. It’s not just jolts of pleasure and it’s not just a burst of fireworks when everything breaks. 

 

It’s a damned supernova.

 

She comes screaming his name, her voice echoing off the walls loud enough that later she’ll worry about her neighbors. Her whole body throbs as she wrenches on his hair, tugging him closer, thrusting against his face. He moans, pressing his fingers as deep as he can in her pulsing channel. He keeps licking her through her orgasm, right up until her thighs tighten when she grows too sensitive.

 

Amelia collapses in a boneless heap. Where before she’d been tense, now there’s nothing, her body lax against the sheets, a hazy buzz of dim awareness clouding her thoughts.

 

“Oh God,” she rasps, trying to catch her breath.

 

“Damn right,” Will says in a thick, gritty voice that makes her shudder. He presses a wet kiss to her thigh again, lingering with a little nip that gets him a weak yelp. With bleary eyes, she looks down to find him wiping his chin on the edge of the sheet. He has the most self-satisfied grin she’s ever seen on his face and if she thought he was sexy before… “You’re incredible,” he tells her. “I wanna see you like that all the time.”

 

Amelia tugs her lip between her teeth, a pleased flush coloring her cheeks. That was more than she expected -  _ way _ more - and she’s reeling. And floating. Her head’s muddled and her breaths are coming too fast, too hard. But she slowly comes back to herself as she watches him ease off the foot of the bed and crawl up next to her. Her eyes drift over him lazily, drinking him in. He’s beautifully, perfectly nude. And not only is his ass a work of art and his abs basically sculpted muscle, but his cock is thick and hard and definitely in need of her attention.

 

In fact, as the post-orgasmic bliss starts to fade from her body, she’s fairly sure that she’s never wanted to touch a man more. And she’s definitely never wanted to get her mouth on one more.

 

“Come here,” she orders as he drops on the bed next to her.

 

“I’m coming,” he says, giving her a half-smile and a soft look that is clearly not reading her mood correctly. She’s pretty sure he thinks she wants to cuddle.

 

“Not yet, you’re not,” Amelia counters, pushing him flat on his back as she closes in, sealing her lips against the underside of his chin. There’s an insatiable hunger in the way she kisses him. It’s raw and needy, wanton and aggressive. Her fingers itch to touch him everywhere and the need to taste his skin is undeniable. 

 

This is her. This is what she wants. It’s  _ who _ she wants. And, finally, she can have him.

 

Will breathes out a moan as she starts kissing and nipping her way down his chest. Her hair gets in her way and she brushes it aside without letting it distract her. It falls right back, but his fingers reach out and stroke the tresses away from her face, holding them out of the way.

 

She can  _ feel _ his eyes on her.

 

“Amelia,” he hisses out as she catches his nipple between her teeth and licks it. Her hand traces down his side to grip his thigh. His muscles clench beneath her touch and he sucks in a wild breath as his hips instinctively move, his cock pressing against the soft plane of her stomach. “Oh… Honey, I didn’t… I didn’t do that so you’d…”

 

“I know why you did it,” she tells him, continuing her path downward, marking him with her lips and teeth. “Same reason I’m doing this.”

 

“Are you… Oh  _ damn…”  _

 

His words fade when she nuzzles the skin just beneath his belly button. She looks up at him as she licks the skin, barely missing contact with the tip of his cock. She relishes the look in his eyes. Overwhelmed and wildly turned on, he’s at her mercy. A disheveled, wanting Will is a hell of a sight.

 

Amelia says nothing as she inches lower, settling between his legs. She grasps his length in her hand. His breath stutters and it stops altogether when she swipes her tongue right at the base of his cock. She goes over the entire length before closing her lips around the tip of him and taking all of him in.

 

“Oh  _ holy shit,” _ Will gasps. 

 

He white-knuckles the sheets, twisting them as he gulps for air, hooded eyes watching her slowly work her mouth up and down his length. As his hips move in counterpoint to her, he whimpers, a tiny little sound that she really loves. She wants to hear him make it every day. She wants to be the one who makes him make it every day.

 

She reaches up for one of his hands, lacing her fingers through his and gripping him tight as she hollows out her cheeks, speeding up her pace. He clenches her hand like a lifeline, moaning and keeping eye contact with her as he thrusts his cock up into her mouth. When he bumps the back of her throat, she presses her other arm across his hips to control his depth. It only seems to turn him on more. Like his arousal has a direct line to her own, she feels herself growing wetter, her own pleasure linked to giving him his. 

 

It’s easy to see he’s close. His abdomen tightens, his thighs clench as his breath turns to a near-pant.

 

“Amelia,” he moans, gripping her hand tighter. “Honey, I’m gonna come.”

 

She appreciates the warning - she really does - but she has absolutely zero intention of letting him come anywhere other than inside her mouth. And she makes that extremely clear when she takes him deep enough that she buries her nose in the wiry curls of his groin. His legs jerk up around her before she sucks in a pulsing motion that has him swearing and arching his back.

 

“Oh  _ God _ ,” he sobs with a needy gulp, his hand shaking in hers. “God…  _ Amelia…” _

 

A burst of salty liquid coats her tongue and Amelia swallows. 

 

He’s past words. He’s all gasps and incoherent noises as he pistons into her mouth. His other hand abandons the sheets to grab the headboard for leverage as he loses himself in her. She grips his thigh, taking him in until he’s spent entirely, his cock twitching.

 

Will is still trying to catch his breath when she finally releases him with a soft kiss against the head of his cock. She smiles up at him, licking her lips before wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

 

“Holy shit,” he pants, watching her with something akin to awe.

 

“You can’t have thought you were the only one with fantasies that needed to be played out.”

 

“No,” Will says breathlessly, a sound she relishes, “but  _ wow _ am I happy that our fantasies line up pretty fantastically.”

 

“It’ll be fun to see how many more do,” she says as she eases back up onto the mattress to curl up with him. A very pleasant throb still lingers between her thighs. He opens his arms to her and she snuggles into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as she drapes a leg over his.

 

_ “Now?”  _ His eyebrows meet his hairline and he cranes his neck to look at her. “I’m gonna need a minute, honey.”

 

Amelia laughs and strokes his cheek. “Not  _ now _ . We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Good,” he says, turning to kiss her palm. “Because I don’t ever want to let you go.”

 

Her heart swells and she blushes under his attention. It’s wild to look back and realize how they got here, but it’s just as crazy to wonder how they didn’t get here sooner.

 

“We’ve taken a long time to get to this point, Will,” Amelia says. “But maybe we needed that time. Maybe we needed to be the people we are now to make this work. To make it last. You know?”

 

A flicker of what seems like uncertainty flashes over his face, but it’s gone before she can pin it down. Will smiles and it erases everything except her joy. Amelia almost snorts at herself. Her self-doubts aren’t going to be erased overnight, but it would be great if she could at least stop freaking herself out. Everything about the last day has proven her worries unfounded, after all. 

 

Will grabs her hand to hold her still as he presses his lips to her wrist. He breathes out against her skin before letting it go.

 

“All I know is that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he tells her. “I think that was always going to be true.”

 

She smiles before sighing, tired and happy, scooting closer so there’s absolutely nothing between them. She nuzzles her nose into his neck and breathes him in. “You too, Will,” she murmurs. “I’m just… I’m so happy that we’re finally at a place in our lives where this works.”

 

He kisses the top of her head.

 

“That’s all I wanted,” Will whispers against her temple. “For us to be at a place in our lives where we work. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

 

Amelia yawns and curls into him more, soaking in his warmth. He yanks the sheet and comforter back up, covering them both. A sense of total contentment settles over her as he strokes her shoulder with gentle reverence.

 

He holds her close, pressing his lips to her hair again, whispering something.

 

But his murmured words get lost in the lull of sleep as she fades into the easiest, most comfortable slumber of her life wrapped up in his arms. 


	12. Chapter 12

_One Month Later_

 

In the midst of a sea of black and white, Amelia shimmers in a rich, brilliant blue.

 

The crowd ebbs and flows as the Starling City elite stream about the ballroom, but she shines like a beacon calling his attention home. It’s not the bold color of her dress that keeps Will’s focus on Amelia, though. No, he’d be enraptured no matter what she was wearing, no matter what the setting.

 

It’s just _her_.

 

Will takes a moment to drink in the sight of his girlfriend.

 

The past few weeks have been the best of his life. Little moments like sharing coffee with her on her balcony as the sun rises or watching her hum as she cooks them breakfast wearing nothing but his shirt stand out the most. The city is still drowning in a sea of chaos, but the world around them does nothing to diminish the everyday beauty and calm she’s brought to his life. It’s a gift, one he’s not sure he deserves.

 

Part of him is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

Some days the crash and burn feels inevitable, but then she derails that feeling with a laugh or a smile that cuts right through everything else. His reservations evaporate completely when she looks at him like he’s the only person in the world that matters. In those moments, he _sees_ her belief in them, reads it on her face, and he lets himself believe right along with her. It’s contagious. Even with the whispers of self-doubt hissing in his ear - _you’re not good enough; you’ll never be good enough_ \- hope clenches his heart when he looks at her.

 

And he can’t _stop_ looking at her. Especially tonight.

 

Will finishes the rest of his whisky in one swallow and sets his empty tumbler on the bar. Giving the bartender a nod of thanks, he moves to join his girlfriend in the middle of the ballroom again.

 

“Excuse me,” Will says as he takes his place next to her. He vaguely recognizes the businesspeople she’s talking with, but they fade away into the background the second he touches Amelia’s bare back through the silver latticework of her dress. She leans into him, offering him a soft, affectionate smile that warms him through and through. He only has eyes for her as he smiles back. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to steal the love of my life from you fine people for a moment.”

 

Amelia’s cheeks flush in barely-concealed delight, her face brightening as if he doesn’t make declarations like that as often as humanly possible.

 

He loves it, and he’ll keep saying it as much as he can, if it keeps getting that response.

 

 _“Dart, you got any crackers?”_ Jules asks.

 

Will’s eyebrow ticks up as Amelia rolls her lips together to keep from reacting to the voice in their comms.

 

 _“Crackers? Why would I have crackers?”_ Ellie asks.

 

 _“To go with that absolute cheese I just heard,”_ Jules replies. Eric busts up laughing as Alex sighs.

 

Will fights the urge to grin and sass back at his sister. She’s been wary of Amelia since day one, and while that hasn’t changed, her outright hostility has faded. A joke from Julianna Queen is a good sign.

 

“I know it might not be appropriate right now,” he says, speaking to both Jules and the people Amelia had been talking to, “but resisting the urge to pull her away and tune everyone else out is too much for me.”

 

 _“Do not turn off your comms,”_ his father orders. _“Team business only from here on out. Roger?”_

 

 _“Roger,”_ Jules confirms.

 

“Roger, right?” Will asks, turning to the businessman on his right. Jules snorts over the comm while Oliver hums his approval.

 

“Edgar, actually,” the man corrects him, extending a hand that Will shakes.

 

“My mistake,” Will replies, offering up a charming smile as he makes cordial introductions with the others as well. But that’s all they get. Amelia leans into him, the warmth of her hand bleeding through his tux where her palm rests against his chest. Her other hand crosses her midsection to twine her fingers with his against the curve of her waist. When he looks at her, the entire room disappears. “I want to sweep you off your feet.”

 

“You’ve already done that,” she murmurs. Her bright eyes lock with his in a way that makes him feel like they’re the only people in the world.

 

Will leans in with a conspiratorial whisper of, “I don’t mean metaphorically,” before stepping back and tugging her along.

 

“What are you-” Her voice cuts off as he pulls her into his arms and starts to sway. “No one’s dancing, Will.”

 

“Not true,” he replies. “We are.”

 

“There’s no music,” Amelia adds, the quiet smile playing on her lips belying her words as she moves with him, her hands settling on his neck.

 

Will strokes his thumb against her spine at the base of her back. “We’ll make our own.”

 

 _‘Later,’_ she mouths.

 

Her eyes dance to his mouth as she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. When she meets his gaze again, the heavy look shining back at him only means one thing. Heat sizzles over him. How long do they have to stay at this fundraiser her boss is throwing? They’ve been here long enough, surely. He doesn’t realize he’s biting his own lip in a mirror of hers until she fails to conceal a moan. A startled flush rushes over her cheeks and he reads her look perfectly - ‘ _I hope they didn’t hear that over the comms.’_

 

Will gives her a half-smile that tells her they definitely did because he heard it echo through his earpiece.

 

Her flush spreads down her neck, racing over her chest.

 

With a chuckle and a low, “You’re all good,” Will leans in and touches his forehead to hers as they sway to music only they can hear.

 

There have been no shortage of charity galas and high society fundraisers in Will’s life, but this one’s different. For one thing, he’s actually _enjoying_ it. And that’s because of reason number two: he’s not here as a Queen. He’s not representing Aunt Thea’s foundation or trying to help secure donors and votes for his father’s campaign. He’s here as Amelia’s date. Because she asked him to be.

 

He’s never felt as light and free as he does right here and now, and he wants to shout it from the rooftops.

 

“Hold on,” Will cautions before moving them into an actual dance.

 

“What?” Amelia asks, but she follows his lead easily, holding on securely.

 

He answers by dipping her.

 

She gasps and gifts him with a beautiful grin. He brushes his nose to hers before pulling her up.

 

“Told you I wanted to sweep you off your feet.”

 

“Well then, mission accomplished.”

 

She’s close enough that the warmth of her breath hits his lips. A shiver falls down his spine and he almost presses his mouth to hers. But they aren’t alone, not even close. He might not see the room right now, but he’s sure there are plenty of eyes on them at the moment. And this a work function for her.

 

Kissing will have to wait.

 

 _‘I love you,’_ Will mouths.

 

 _‘I love you, too,’_ she mouths back, fingers grazing over his cheek.

 

“You don’t mind?” he asks, relishing the feel of her in his arms as they dance.

 

“Mind what?”

 

“It’s a work event,” Will points out, nodding at the people around them. “You don’t mind that I stole you?”

 

“William Queen,” Amelia says, shaking her head. “Don’t you know by now?”

 

The look in her eyes has his heart thudding in his chest. “Know what?”

 

“You can have me any time, my love.”

 

 _“Oh my God,”_ Ellie groans through the comm, but they both ignore her.

 

Amelia traces the line of his jaw as she stares into his eyes. “I’m yours. And in your arms is exactly where I want to be.”

 

Will doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing her tell him that. After a decade of wanting to be with her, after all their near-misses and not-quites, for her to say it and _mean_ it is earth-shattering. But she does. And she leaves no room for doubt.

 

“Let go for a minute,” he requests.

 

“I don’t want to,” she says, stroking her finger through his stubble.

 

“I want to spin you.”

 

“You’ve already got me spinning.”

 

“Cute.”

 

“Glad you think so.”

 

Will’s pretty sure that the grumble of annoyance over the comms comes from Alex this time. Tough shit. After all Will’s put up with from him and Jules, he can suck it up.

 

An amused smile tugs at Amelia’s lips, pulling a grin from Will too.

 

Color rides high on her cheeks, leaving her fresh and alive in a way that ignites his soul. There’s something especially gorgeous about Amelia when she’s playful. It doesn’t matter where they are, when she gets that little glint in her eye, it’s _his_ feet that are getting swept out from under him.

 

He can’t help it. He has to kiss her.

 

Will presses his lips to hers gently, his quiet restraint a deference to their surroundings. But it’s never simple, not between them. Heat simmers beneath the surface. There’s a promise in their kiss, the sort that can’t be fulfilled in a day or a month or even a year. So much emotion passes between them in the soft touch of their lips, so much unity and hope, that it floors him. He’s always known that Amelia devotes herself completely to the things she cares about. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to being at the center of that focus.

 

Overwhelming. That’s how it feels. This time. Every time.

 

There’s something terrifying about having everything he’s always wanted.

 

Fear doesn’t seem to touch her, though. She falls into it without hesitation, so carefree and trusting and stunning.

 

Amelia melts against him, slipping her hands under the lapels of his jacket to grip his suspenders. She kisses him like they’re alone, long and slow and without an ounce of reservation.

 

It sets his blood on fire and he has no choice but to respond.

 

When they part, there’s scarcely enough space for a breath between them. The length of her entire body presses against his, her fingers tugging on his suspenders. He has that dazed look of want in her eyes memorized by now. He’s seen it as she pulled him atop her in bed, as she straddled him on her dining room chair, and that one time she locked the door to her office and pushed him back against her desk.

 

As much as he wants to, slipping away with her right now wouldn’t be wise. Especially considering how high-profile this event is, and how likely it is to fall under attack.

 

Clenching his jaw in a bid for self-control, Will forces himself to settle for dancing.

 

The space around them cleared of people when they weren’t paying attention. Will takes her hand in his with a soft kiss to her fingers before using his dim awareness of the area near them to guide her in a silent waltz. In her heels, she’s exactly the same height as him. It puts them nose-to-nose and means he’s forever staring in her eyes.

 

Good. That’s exactly what he wants to do for as long as she’ll let him.

 

“Thank you for dancing with me,” he says quietly.

 

“I’ll always dance with you, Will,” she promises, dropping their formal waltz to rest her hand against his chest.

 

Will drops a kiss to her shoulder, lingering for a moment, breathing in her scent before looking back up. “Always is a long time.”

 

“Yes,” Amelia agrees with a smile. “It is.”

 

The promise in her voice wraps around him and the hope that they’ll get that - that ‘ _always’_ can and will be theirs - nearly chokes him. A voice in the recesses of his mind whispers that it’s foolish to believe her, but how can he question it when she looks at him like _that_ with everything he’s ever wanted to hear coming from her lips?

 

Will leans into her, closing his eyes as he presses his cheek to hers. The warmth of her skin against his and the gentleness of her touch soothes the rougher edges of his nerves. His breath ghosts over her ear as he whispers, “Here’s to ‘always’, then.”

 

Amelia shivers in his arms as the words hit home. She pulls back just enough to catch his eye, but he can’t hold her gaze this time. Not without kissing her again. He can’t imagine their affections would stay work-friendly for long. Instead he clears his throat and twirls her around in his arms. The move earns a burst of laughter from her that he needs to hear more of. So he dips her and pulls her back up to spin her out an arm’s length.

 

There’s a dreamy quality about their dance…

 

Up until someone steps backwards and Amelia collides with them before Will can tug her back.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Amelia says as the man turns to face them. The color drains from her face before her words have even faded from her lips. “Senator Powers.”

 

“Miss Preston.”

 

Amelia stiffens. “It’s Prescott.”

 

It comes out sharper than she probably means it to. And, judging by the quirk of the older man’s lips, he knows exactly what her name is. Slimy bastard. He _should_ know. They’d butted heads enough when she was at the Central City mayor’s office and he was still at state-level politics. Now he’s one of the state’s charming freshman senators in DC, something he wears like an oily second skin. Movement from the corner of Will’s eye has him glancing over to see the security the man brought tonight. Powers isn’t the only one who brought bodyguards to the event, but the majority of them have the decency to stay by the exits and walls. These two men damned near flank him, putting on more of a show than words ever could, especially when one with a mangled ear touches his communicator and murmurs into his sleeve.

 

Will has to bite his tongue to keep from telling the senator how much of a world class douche he is.

 

“Of course,” Senator Powers replies, flashing a brilliant smile that probably earned him more than a few votes. It’s a shitty non-apology, if Will’s ever heard one. The older man looks to Will. “Mr. Queen, right? Oliver’s oldest?”

 

“That’s right. Will Queen.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other side of the comm in Will’s ear that sounds a lot like his dad and he immediately adds, “But I’m not here because of my father tonight. Just escorting my girlfriend this evening.”

 

The senator’s eyes flick back to Amelia. “How charming.”

 

Will grits his teeth under his condescension and squeezes the senator’s fingers a little too hard mid-handshake.

 

“I apologize for crashing into you,” Amelia says. Her voice is sweet, but it does little to hide the tense lines of her body. Will’s hand finds her lower back and he rubs his thumb back and forth. “I’m afraid I hadn’t noticed anyone was standing there.”

 

“So I gathered,” Senator Powers replies. “No harm done. In some ways, I’m glad to have bumped into you. I’d wondered where you’d run off to after leaving Central City.”

 

Yep. He’s definitely a world class douche. Even though she stiffens at his side, Amelia offers the senator a placid smile. But Will isn’t having any of that. The word choice alone makes him bristle, the very notion that the senator _chased_ her out of Central City...

 

He opens his mouth to reply, but someone else beats him to it.

 

“Now why don’t I believe that for a second?”

 

The voice makes Will’s skin crawl. He digs his teeth into the tip of his tongue as Amelia sucks in a quick breath at his side, leaning against him a little more. She winds one arm around Will’s waist as her palm lands on his arm.

 

For once, her presence does nothing to comfort him.

 

Not with his grandmother standing three feet away.

 

 _“Goddamn it,”_ Felicity hisses over the comms. _“What the hell is she doing there?”_

 

 _“Will, walk away if you need to,”_ Oliver tells him in a low voice. _“Amelia, get him out of there if this gets ugly. Do you understand?”_

 

“I do,” Amelia replies, speaking to both the voice in her ear and the people before her. “Why would he keep tabs on me?”

 

Moira Queen’s eyebrow ticks up. It’s the tiniest movement, but it screams as loud as if Amelia had shouted. Moira stares at the younger woman with quiet disbelief and a hint of disappointment before turning back to Senator Powers. The man never took his eyes off Moira in the first place. Neither of them acknowledge Amelia’s question, or Will for that matter.

 

“Mayor Queen,” the senator greets with a nod.

 

The smile that decorates his grandmother’s face could carve through stone. “I haven’t held office in quite some time.”

 

It doesn’t mean a damn thing, and they all know it. Will has no doubt that she still has her hands involved in political battles at every level. And, judging by the look on his face, Senator Powers agrees.

 

Will and Amelia say nothing, watching the exchange between the two political powerhouses.

 

“True enough,” Senator Powers acknowledges. “I suppose it might be a touch early to start using that title again for you.”

 

“Don’t be absurd,” Moira counters, waving him off with a frail, weathered hand. “I’ve given so much of my life to this city already, Derek. I’m an old woman now. My days in office are all behind me.”

 

“Pity,” the senator replies. “You were always reasonable to work with. More so than others.”

 

He doesn’t say Amelia’s name, but there’s no missing the way he glances at her.

 

Will’s nostrils flare, his fingers digging into her waist. It’s a veiled threat, political or not, and it takes all of his power to stop himself from stepping between her and the smarmy son of a bitch.

 

“You might find me less reasonable these days, Derek,” Moira says, stepping closer.

 

To Will’s eternal surprise, she moves until she’s directly between them and Senator Powers, blocking both of them from his direct line of sight. His jaw drops before he can stop it as Amelia lets out a startled gasp.

 

Moira lifts her chin as she stares at the man. “At my age, you start to see things differently. Loyalty and legacy go hand-in-hand.”

 

Senator Powers studies her, an unreadable look flitting over his face before he wipes it away. “Well, Moira,” he says, a gleaming smile pulling at his lips. “On that, as with so many other things, we wholeheartedly agree.”

 

“Such as the necessity of the proposed new hospital?” Moira asks point-blank.

 

Amelia stills at Will’s side, straining so she catches every single morsel of conversation.

 

“Ensuring every resident of Starling City has accessible healthcare resources needs to be a priority,” the senator answers smoothly.

 

Felicity snorts in Will’s ear. _“If that isn’t the most canned statement I’ve ever heard.”_

 

Moira seems to agree, tilting her head with scrutinizing eyes. “Why is it that I sense there’s a little more to your position than that?”

 

The senator pauses, his own eyes narrowing at the challenge. He doesn’t want to answer, but he’s also painfully aware of where they are. And that people are listening. Ever the political showman, he appears to cede.

 

“I have concerns about the location,” Senator Powers says. “Crime is spiraling out of control in this city, particularly in that part of it. I have a hard time stomaching the idea of sending doctors and nurses and our first responders - like your grandson here - into a war zone to save thugs and drug lords. We need more hospitals, I agree wholeheartedly on that, but that area needs less crime first.”

 

Amelia’s short exhale as she gears up to reply has Will tugging her closer. This project means the world to her. She’s poured her heart and soul into it, and the last thing she needs is to make a direct enemy out of someone who could prove a very problematic adversary.

 

Will has no such problem.

 

“First responders don’t limit themselves to saving people we deem _worth it_ ,” he says with a practiced smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we don’t just go where it’s safe. That’s the job. That’s always been the job. Hospital or not, we’ll be out there serving the community. We’ll just be able to save more lives with facilities nearby.”

 

Senator Powers’ eyes switch to Will over Moira’s head. “There’s a selflessness about the men and women who have your job,” he says, sounding almost impassioned. It rings false in Will’s ears. “I have nothing but respect for those of you who put your lives on the line for all of us day in and day out. We need people like that. But my job means helping craft policies and laws that take the big picture into account. Crime is my top priority. We need to clean up these streets before we do anything else.”

 

“And the people dying out there in the meantime?” Amelia demands. “What about them?”

 

“Well, luckily for them, they’ve got your boyfriend to save them,” the senator replies with a smile that looks as fake as his words sound. “Don’t they?”

 

Fire burns in Amelia’s eyes, but before she can say anything, Moira intercedes.

 

“It was good to see you, Derek,” the older woman says. “We should catch up soon. But for now I’m afraid I’m going to take my leave of you. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to spend time with my grandson and Miss Prescott.”

 

“Ah yes, your former protégé,” Senator Powers replies, his gaze switching to Amelia. “I’d almost forgotten she was one of yours.”

 

“Had you?” Moira rebuts in a light voice. “How very unlike you.”

 

“Give my best to Walter,” the senator says.

 

Moira visibly flinches at the casual mention of her ailing husband. But like a true Queen, she smoothes it over with a nod. “Of course.”

 

The man’s eyes stray to someone standing behind them. With a million-watt smile, Senator Powers says, “Pardon me,” to Will and Amelia before stepping away to greet one of the city commissioners in a boisterous voice. His security follows him. The entire façade leaves a sour taste in Will’s mouth.

 

It’s only when the senator is out of earshot that Moira turns to Will and Amelia.

 

For the first time in a long time, his grandmother feels less like an archvillain and more like a sad, lonely, bitter old woman.

 

It’s a startling contrast.

 

Will hasn’t seen her in years. The estrangement was his choice, the culmination of so much bad blood between them, and he doesn’t regret it in the least. Not with how she treated him. Not with her constant rejection of him as family. Not with continual machinations to keep him and Amelia apart. At the time, when he’d broken all ties with her, it had seemed as though the older woman had ruined his life, certainly destroying his chance to be with the woman he loves.

 

But things are different now. He has Amelia at his side. His life almost resembles something that’s put together. He’ll never forgive his grandmother for the wrongs she committed against him, but time and circumstance make it sting less.

 

Or maybe he’s just seeing things clearer.

 

“I know that neither of you owe me the favor of your company,” Moira says. “But I would appreciate a moment of your time in private. If nothing else, to discuss what just happened.”

 

His gut response is a harsh, _‘That is not happening,’_ but it doesn’t come out. He’s not sure if that’s because of what just transpired or if it’s that when he looks at her, he no longers sees the imposing figure she used to represent in his life. She’s always been smaller in stature, but without an adversary before her, she’s tinier still, almost withdrawn. Will nearly feels bad for her as she watches both of them, waiting for an answer.

 

But he doesn’t say anything, not for a long moment.

 

Amelia’s fingers stroke along the length of Will’s arm and he glances at her. _It’s your choice,_ her eyes say. There’s no doubt that his grandmother would have some keen insight that would help Amelia professionally, but that’s not what matters to her. Not right now.

 

No, she’s putting him first.

 

That affects him more than he can say and it gives him the strength to finally nod.

 

“Yeah,” he says, eyes on Amelia. She gives him a tiny smile of approval and gratitude that warms his chest cavity. Will drags his eyes away from her to look back at his estranged grandmother. “We can spare a minute. Lead the way.”

 

She isn’t expecting his reply, that much is obvious by the sharp way she inhales and the flare lighting her eyes. Her reaction disappears in the next blink, as she nods her head toward a hallway. But it isn’t until she turns and walks away, fully expecting them to follow, that he sees how anxious she is. Her thumb rubs against the outer edge of her index finger.

 

Will blinks.

 

He’s only ever seen his dad do that. Not as frequently as he used to, sure, but every once in a while the nervous tic appears. Will always thought it was because his dad longed for the security of a bow in his hand. Now, watching his grandmother do the same thing, he wonders who’s imitating who. It’s a stark reminder that this is his father’s mother. They may distance themselves, but they’re still family, even if it rarely feels like it.

 

Like she catches herself, Moira flexes her weathered hand, forcing herself to stop.

 

She leads them off to the side, pausing when people stop her, clasping hands and offering brief greetings. She doesn’t linger, though. More than a few people watch them leave the room. It’s better than him sneaking Amelia away and people speculating left and right about things they have no business wondering about.

 

But the second they’re out of sight, nerves set in. The three of them don’t go far, entering the first unoccupied conference room they find. But when Moira shuts the door behind them, it only agitates the sudden burst of butterflies in his stomach. Facing his grandmother has never been easy…

 

Except he isn’t doing it alone.

 

Amelia’s hand slides down his arm to grip his hand, holding onto him like she’s claiming her place at his side. Nearly all of his family is connected through the comms in his ear. And he doesn’t _need_ Moira’s acceptance. Not anymore.

 

“I owe you both a great many apologies,” his grandmother says. The words come out as if in contrition, but the lift of her chin and the way she leans on the glass conference room table lends a different air. Will almost snorts. “Most especially to you, William.”

 

Will studies her for a beat, fighting to really see her. To anyone who didn’t know Moira Queen, the apology would seem unemotional. But there’s something vulnerable under the surface that he’s never seen in her before. Maybe it’s in how hard her fingertips press against the table or the tightness in her jaw, but there’s a layer of authenticity that takes Will completely by surprise. That’s how he reads people, he realizes, by cues. Moira’s never been one to project her emotions, not like he does. For the first time he wonders if that’s been a factor in their lack of a relationship all along.

 

“My judgment of you was harsh and swift,” his grandmother continues. “The assumptions I made about your character were more a reflection of me than they were of you. It was deeply unfair of me and I am sorry.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Will replies.

 

He might be seeing her in a different light, but he’s nowhere near ready to offer her absolution.

 

She doesn’t expect it, judging by the look on her face.

 

“That’s very gracious of you,” she tells him before looking at Amelia. “Perhaps the thing that’s become most clear to me is how sorely I misjudged his attachment to you. He’s scarcely taken his eyes off of you from the moment you two walked in the door. The only other man I can recall being so obviously enamored with a woman is his father.”

 

The utter silence on the other end of the comms tells Will everyone is listening in.

 

Amelia tightens her grip on his hand. “The feeling is mutual.”

 

On a logical level, Will knows this. She’s said it enough. She’s _shown_ him enough. But it still seems impossible, and hearing it will never get old. Will lifts her their twined fingers and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. He catches her small smile as she watches him, a soft sigh dancing over their fingers.

 

When they look back at his grandmother, she’s appraising them with an almost call a gentle look on her face. “I’m grateful you’ve found your way back to each other. You are very clearly well-suited together. And it’s good to see you both happy.”

 

She’s _happy_ for them.

 

It’s a foreign concept. She’s never shown that she’s cared much for him before and actions speak louder than words. She’s done more things to him and to his relationship with Amelia than he has the time or patience to count. Will can’t help but wonder if she thinks saying this now absolves her of all her wrongdoings. If so, she couldn’t be more wrong.

 

Moira’s sigh seems to reflect she understands that.

 

“You’re aware, of course, that Senator Powers is standing in the way of your hospital being built?” his grandmother asks.

 

The subject change is so swift that it has both Will and Amelia jolting.

 

“Excuse me?” Amelia asks as Oliver grumbles something under his breath over the comms.

 

“The stumbling blocks you’ve encountered with approvals and zoning and whatnot,” Moira says, waving her hand as she speaks. “They require someone capable of pulling a great many strings, someone with tremendous influence. I’d suspected he was the one getting in your way for some time. Tonight confirmed it.”

 

One look at Amelia tells Will that the idea has occurred to her before. He can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to see the pieces the way Moira does.

 

“But why?” she finally asks.

 

“Why do you think?” Moira fixes her sharp eyes on her former protégé. The threads of their one-time professional relationship are plain to see in this moment, even to Will. Moira is patient with Amelia in a way he can’t ever remember her being on a personal level. There’s an interest in her eyes, a challenge, and a hope that Amelia’s about to put it together. “What do you know about Derek Powers, Amelia?”

 

“Not enough, clearly,” Amelia replies. She frowns. “We fought more than a few battles when I was in Central City. He’s ambitious as hell and we agree on very, very little.”

 

“You were often in his way,” Moira points out. “As he’s in yours now... Amelia, who do you think was responsible for you losing your job at City Hall?”

 

Amelia freezes.

 

Will’s eyes dart between the two women. “He got her _fired?_ Why?”

 

“Because it served his purpose and the opportunity presented itself,” Moira explains. “Say what you will about Thad DeWolfe - most of it would be true - but it’s also true that his relationship with Amelia shielded her from reprisal for some time. Leaving him made her vulnerable. She’d been a problem for Derek for years. He’d have been a fool not to take advantage of her weakness.”

 

“I’ve never regretted leaving Thad,” Amelia says, a burst of nerves powering her words. “And I never will.”

 

Will swallows hard, forcing himself to hear her and the fierce honesty in her voice. It only sort of works. She will always be more important than his own feelings, but at the same time, he can’t help thinking about Thad protecting her. If she’d been with him, she wouldn’t have been attacked at City Hall. She wouldn’t be running around in a vigilante suit. She would probably have no problem getting this hospital built.

 

What exactly does he have to offer her in comparison?

 

A small voice in the back of his mind whispers, _How does she not regret it?_

 

“If you were truly so unhappy, then your choice was for the best. It took great personal strength to make such a change,” Moira allows. “But professionally, it left you vulnerable. I don’t say this as a criticism of your choice and I am not making a judgment. It is merely a statement of facts. Politics is a business of favors and alliances. There is always a cost to burning bridges, Amelia, and you paid a steep one.”

 

Amelia sighs, her shoulders falling. “And Powers got to Washington because his tough-on-crime proposals went through without me fighting him about city ordinances on police body cameras and meta-human rights.”

 

“It’ll take him a lot further than that,” Moira replies.

 

Brow furrowing, Amelia asks, “What?”

 

“His aim has always been the White House,” Moira tells her. “Everything he’s doing now is designed to get him there in ‘44.”

 

“But the hospital-”

 

“Doesn’t win elections,” Moira interrupts.

 

Amelia clenches her jaw, her nostrils flaring in a familiar show of anger and helplessness. Will drops her hand to wrap his arm around her, laying a soft kiss to her shoulder as he strokes his thumb over her skin through the latticework of her dress.

 

“Not on its own,” his grandmother continues. “Healthcare access will turn out some votes, but not like cracking down on crime does. Give people someone to fear and then tell them you can make them safe if they just vote for you. That’s been his strategy from day one and he’ll keep doing it all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue. He needs to show that his anti-crime initiatives are necessary for a safe, healthy, prosperous society. The hospital only serves his needs if he can take credit for making the city safe in the first place. And with the mayor dead… Well, we already know he’s quite good at taking advantage of opportunities when he finds them, don’t we?”

 

“Is he taking advantage of an opportunity?” Will asks. “Or creating one?”

 

Moira frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“The mayor’s death helps him,” Will says. “The whole attack on City Hall and the way Starling’s fallen apart since then plays right into his hands. So, is he capitalizing on Domino’s attack, or did he have a hand in it?”

 

A low hum comes from the older woman as she stares at Will. “I haven’t a clue,” she admits, something akin to respect filling her eyes. “But you pose an interesting question.”

 

 _“Well, I know who I’m running some background checks on next,”_ Felicity says, making both Will and Amelia jump at the sudden intrusion.

 

 _“If we can’t get him through his boys, we’ll get to him through his allies,”_ Eric agrees. _“Domino’s goin’ down one way or another.”_

 

“When you want to know who’s responsible for something,” Amelia recites absently, harkening back to her days across a desk from Moira and across a dinner table from Thad, “look to who benefits from it.”

 

The corner of Moira’s mouth ticks up in appreciation. “True enough. But I warn you to be cautious in pursuing the possibility. Senator Powers is not someone you want to make an enemy of. And that’s doubly true should your theory prove to have merit, William. You are a minor nuisance to him at this point, Amelia. Were I you, I’d do my best to go unnoticed until I had more information.”

 

When Amelia smiles, it’s the same placid one she gave to Powers earlier. “I’ll pick my battles carefully,” she promises.

 

The double meaning isn’t lost on Will and he can’t help the way his chest tightens with fear.

 

 _“Heads up,”_ Jules snaps. They both stiffen. _“I’ve got movement on the rooftop across the street on the north side of the charity event.”_

 

 _“Same to the east,”_ Alex confirms. _“They’re comin’.”_

 

 _“Everybody get in position,”_ Oliver orders.

 

“Is everything alright?” Moira asks.

 

Will flinches and turns off the transmission on his comm. The last thing the team needs with an impending fight is to be distracted by his conversation with his grandmother. Amelia follows suit and it’s only then that Moira’s eyes widen in understanding.

 

“You had to know this would be a target,” Will tells his grandmother. “You had to know Dad and the rest of the team would be here to protect it.”

 

“I did,” Moira replies, eyes darting between them. “I just didn’t realize the team included the two of you.” Her gaze skims over Amelia, lingering on the new muscular lines in her arms. “I can see now that I was wrong.”

 

“Very,” Amelia confirms.

 

The clash of battle fills Will’s ear without warning. Shouts and the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh jars him, followed by the _thwick_ of an arrow being released. It’s that noise more than anything that yanks him back into the past. For a split second, the chaos in his ear surrounds him. Hearing it without being able to see anything is so much worse, he realizes absently, because his imagination fills in the gaps. Even knowing he’s not the one under attack, he can’t help the crush of panic that suddenly chokes him.

 

Amelia’s hand lands on his shoulder. “You alright?”

 

Will curses under his breath. She’s so in tune with him, so aware of him. He knows she doesn’t believe him when he forces out a, “ _Yup,_ ” around the suffocating lump in his throat.

 

“The building is under attack?” Moira asks.

 

For once Will’s grateful for her presence. She pulls Amelia’s attention away from him, and it’s enough, even if it’s just for a moment. He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, shoving the panic down as fast and hard as he can. Fight-or-flight instinct thunders in his veins, but he ignores it, slamming it away where it can’t hurt him.

 

“You’re not in danger,” Amelia assures the older woman. “The people inside will probably never even know the attack happened.”

 

Will lets out a harsh exhale, his voice catching as he asks, “You’re armed?”

 

“Of course,” she replies, smoothing her hand down his tense arm. “I couldn’t manage to hide a sword in this dress, but I have a pair of daggers strapped to my legs.”

 

The distraction comes out of nowhere, but the thought of her wearing nothing but daggers strapped to her thighs fills his head and it calms him more than anything else could in that moment. It’s so absurd Will almost laughs. But instead he clings to it, riding the wave of calm as long as he can while the fighting intensifies through the comm. Someone cries out in pain, someone else growls, there’s shouting…

 

But it’s not from the team, he can tell that much. It gives him some level of solace.

 

“You’re the one they’re calling Providence,” Moira says. Shock colors her face as she shakes her head. “Amelia, what are you thinking?”

 

“That I don’t owe you any explanations, actually,” Amelia replies.

 

Moira purses her lips. “Be that as it may, this isn’t like you.”

 

“If our conversation tonight has proven anything, Moira, it’s that you’ve never known me half as well as you’d like to think.” Amelia doesn’t wait for a response, looking at Will. “Do you think they’ll need me on the roof?”

 

He shakes his head. “They seem to have it handled.”

 

“Should we head back then?” Amelia asks. “Be there in case some of them manage to get in the building?”

 

“No,” Will says. “I think it’s good we’re not there. Making up reasons to slip away if the team needs us would be a pain.”

 

“I’ll head back,” Moira offers. “Should anyone look for either of you, I can make excuses as to where you’ve gone.”

 

Will nods slowly. “Yeah. Alright. Thank you.”

 

“Of course,” she replies. His grandmother pauses before adding, “I appreciate you hearing me out. Both of you. And, William, please tell your father I said I hope he’s well.”

 

That vulnerable strain is back in her features, making her look far older than she is. Will almost allows for the pang of sympathy that instinctively pulls at his gut. No matter how badly Moira’s wronged him, no matter how many times, he doesn’t find joy in her estrangement from her son and the family he’s built. There are no winners here, just a series of battered souls.

 

“I will,” he assures her.

 

Moira tilts her head in thanks before turning to leave.

 

The silence she leaves in her wake gets lost in the screaming din of the battle happening floors above them. When Moira shuts the door, it’s not especially loud, but Will still jumps. Every line of his body tenses, his senses on high alert, waiting for an attack he knows won’t come where they are right now. The longer the quiet stretches on, the louder the fight gets in his ear, the more his panic churns.

 

 _Please don’t have a flashback. Not here. Not now_.

 

Not in front of Amelia.

 

It’s been a long while since it’s happened and he’s been so damn grateful. He wants to be done with them forever. He’s _happy_. He has the life he wants. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore. Then again, he also shouldn’t be panicking at the sound of other people fighting either.

 

His throat aches, his stomach clenching, and he wishes he’d had more than just the one whisky. Just a little more, just enough to soften the noises in his ear and blur the edges of his imagination. Will grits his teeth, forcing a slow breath through his nose. When that doesn’t work he turns away from Amelia, closing his eyes on a sigh as he runs his hands through his hair.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Amelia asks.

 

“Yeah,” Will bites out. “Yup. I’m good. Seeing her was a lot, that’s all. I’m fine.”

 

For a long time the only sound filling his ears is the clang of metal against metal, the grunts of pain, that damn distinctive sound of a bowstring letting an arrow fly. How has he never noticed how many arrows his father carries? They seem never-ending… God, he can’t take it. He can’t. With a grimace, Will yanks the comm from his ear. But there’s no relief. There’s only silence so heavy he can barely breathe. He stares at the comm sitting in his palm.

 

Guilt slams into him.

 

What if they need him? He should be listening. He’s _supposed_ to be listening.

 

“I wanted to wear my grandmother’s pearls.”

 

The words don’t make sense. Will blinks, looking at Amelia with a confused frown. Had he not heard her correctly or…?

 

“I tried,” she continues, stepping closer to him. She touches her fingers to her neck. “It’s been a while. I thought I could. But the minute I tried to put them on, I was right back in City Hall with a hand around my neck. I couldn’t breathe.”

 

Will watches her hand slowly close around his. She curls her fingers around the comm. His whole chest rattles as he exhales a violent, unsteady breath.

 

“I’m _fine,”_ he says, refusing to look at her.

 

“Okay. Maybe you just need a minute.”

 

The excuse lessens the heaviness crowding him. “Yeah,” he breathes.

 

“If that’s true, then I’m glad,” Amelia says. “But you should know that _I’m_ not okay.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Will asks, his eyes snapping to her. “You’re fine. You’re great. Look at you. With everything you’ve been through, you still fight for this hospital. You show up time after time to work with the cops. You’re testifying about what happened to you in court to keep Ketherington and Meyers behind bars. You even put on a mask to make things better for everyone else.”

 

“Yeah, that’s all true.” She gives him a pinched smile. “But I couldn’t wear the necklace.”

 

He pauses, his eyes dropping to her bare neck. The marks are long gone, but he remembers just as well as she does where those horrible fingerprints had stained her skin. But they’re gone now. She’s healed. Just like he is.

 

“It’s just a necklace.”

 

“No, Will,” Amelia says, her fingers ghosting over her throat again. “It’s really not.”

 

Will bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not with her, not with anyone. Yes, she’s in a better place to relate than most. But in some ways that only makes it worse. Maybe she thinks she has a problem she needs to deal with because she can’t wear necklaces anymore. If so, he’s more than happy to help her through that, whatever it means.

 

But it’s not the same for him. There isn’t an obstacle to tackle, there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. He just needs to be braver. That’s all.

 

He clears his throat. “Amelia, why don’t we-”

 

Amelia jerks, her hand flying to press to her ear. The comm, he realizes. She’s listening to the fight. His heart lurches and he opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong when her eyes go wide and all the color drains from her face.

 

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “We need to go. To the roof. Right now. _Now!”_

 

She doesn’t even finish the statement before she’s racing for the door. Will doesn’t think twice. He just acts, following her.

 

The halls are empty, as is the stairwell they barrel into. They’re eight floors from the roof. He doesn’t know what the emergency is, and he doesn’t care - it’s enough that there is one. And he didn’t have his comm in. God, if Amelia hadn’t been there...

 

No. Not now. Later.

 

They rush up the stairs, going full speed. Amelia’s fast, but she’s hampered by her heels and he overtakes her by the fourth floor, taking the steps two at a time.

 

“Go!” she shouts after him as she flips the transmission on in her comm. “Hang on, four more floors and we’re there. Just hold on… Will, _run!”_

 

He does. The urgency in her voice sends a burst of adrenaline shooting through him and he takes the next few flights so quickly that he almost collides with the wall at the last landing. His dress shoes squeak against the concrete as he crashes into the door, slamming it open with his shoulder.

 

Cool air breezes against his sweaty skin as he rushes out.

 

But he doesn’t feel it, not with Jules flat on her stomach reaching over the edge of the building and screaming with the force of exertion like he’s never heard from her before.

 

Will throws himself across the roof, gravel skittering as his shoes slip over it. He nearly tumbles, barely catching himself before he reaches where she’s sprawled across the roof. She’s holding onto someone, gripping with all her might, but her arms are shaking and the steel toes of her boots dig into the rooftop, anchoring her. _Barely._ She’s barely hanging on. Her muscles quake with effort, her screams a visceral cut that Will feels right to the bone. Jules is strong, but she’s not strong enough for this.

 

His fucking shoes slip again so Will just launches himself at her, scrambling to get closer, ignoring the sharp cut of rocks on his palms and chest.

 

“Hang on, hang on,” Will gasps as he finally reaches her, throwing himself to the edge alongside her. “I got it. I got you…”

 

Alex’s terrified eyes shine up at him.

 

“Oh god,” Will says, gripping his best friend’s forearm, reaching farther than Jules could. Her sob of relief rings out, desperate and terrified. But it turns into a shriek when Alex slips an inch. Sheer panic shines back at Will from his best friend’s eyes. His mask does nothing to hide that. Will grits his teeth and shakes his head, gripping Alex harder as he shouts, “Come on, come on, _come on,_ we got this. We’ve got this. Pull on three!”

 

A ragged exhale is all he gets from his sister.

 

“Hey!” Will barks, glancing at her. “One more big burst of energy and we’ll have him up here safe and sound, okay? You’re doing awesome. Just a little more.”

 

“My hands are sweaty,” Jules sobs at her boyfriend with a frantic crack in her voice.

 

“I-It’s okay, chica,” Alex mumbles on a tremor and Will glares at him. “Ain’t none of this your fault. Te amo.”

 

“You’re not falling,” Will snaps at him and Jules nods rapidly. “Come on. Let’s do this. Here we go… One. Two. _Three.”_

 

Alex is a big guy, tall and bulky with muscles that Will swears weigh more than a hundred tons in that moment. The scrape of his boots against the side of the building somehow make it harder to yank him up, taunting Will with how close they are to losing him. Will’s shoulders scream with strain, his biceps damned near ripping with the exertion, his own shouts filling the air alongside Jules’. It takes more effort than he thought possible to pull Alex up. Later he’ll stare at Jules with absolute awe that she managed to hold on by herself for as long as she did. He’ll thank her, and she’ll roll her eyes even as they fill with tears…

 

Because they are going to save Alex. There isn’t another option.

 

It takes forever, but they finally gain inches, and then a foot, and then they’re hauling Alex back over the edge of the roof. Hands grapple for the back of his jacket and belt, yanking him further toward safety.

 

The sound of the rooftop door slamming open echoes loudly followed by Amelia’s, “Oh my God,” as they all roll away from the edge. Will shuffles back, arms numb as Jules shoves Alex onto his back. Her sobs cut through the night, out of control and terrified as she crawls over her boyfriend. She’s shaking so hard her teeth clatter.

 

But that doesn’t stop her from smacking the hell out of him.

 

“You stupid, stupid, son of a _bitch,”_ Jules growls, hitting his chest. How the hell she has the strength to raise her arm, much less actually use it, Will has no idea. That she can do anything right now is amazing. His poor best friend hasn’t come close to catching his breath. He’s barely fending her off, his arms moving like limp noodles. Jules doesn’t care, shoving at his chest. “You almost fucking _died.”_

 

“Better not beat me up too hard then,” Alex manages between bids for air as she smacks his chest a few more times. “Would you stop hitting me…?!”

 

“I. Will. _Not,”_ Jules snaps, smacking him between each word before grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “I can’t believe you… Almost _died,_ you stupid…”

 

Amelia appears at Will’s side, extending a hand to him. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he gasps, wincing as he lets her help him up to his feet, his muscles protesting every inch of the way. His adrenaline is wearing off, but he has a feeling Jules’ is just starting to spike as she growls at the man laying prone beneath her. It’s oddly the most comforting thing he could see right now.

 

He almost lost his best friend. Jules almost lost her boyfriend. _Again._ They almost lost someone who is basically family. Bile tickles the back of Will’s throat, but he swallows it down, because he’s okay. Jules is okay. Alex is okay. They’re all fine. Will takes a slow breath, letting the bizarre sight of his sister berating his best friend comfort him. From the corner of his eye he catches Amelia hitting her comm and quietly updating everyone.

 

“Where’s, uh… The guy who…” Alex tries, lifting his arm. He grimaces with a groan of pain and lets it drop against the gravel rooftop again.

 

“The guy who threw you off a fucking building?” Jules demands. “I kicked his ass over the other edge.”

 

Alex’s eyes widen. “Is he…?”

 

“No, he’s not dead,” Jules informs him, her tone telling all of them exactly what she thinks about that. “I heard him hit a balcony a couple floors down. He should live. Which is a shit-ton better than what he had in mind for _you.”_

 

She hits his shoulders again.

 

“Chica, I gotta… I gotta take a minute,” Alex says, closing his eyes and falling back on the gravel as he presses a hand to his chest.

 

Jules smacks his arm repeatedly with a gritted, “I. Don’t. Care,” and Alex’s eyes fly open on a glare.

 

“You good?” Will asks before they can gear up further as he steps toward them. He squats down next to Alex’s shoulder. “Any injuries beyond the sort you get from dangling off a roof?”

 

“Not unless you count your sister beating me up,” Alex breathes, shaking his head. Jules scoffs and Will huffs out a grin as he stands, leaving them to each other. Amelia brushes some of the gravel from his now-ruined tuxedo as Alex blinks up at the sky before focusing on Jules. “I’m good. Crazy adrenaline rush. That’s all. My life flashed before my damned eyes.”

 

“Oh yeah? Did it?” Jules asks, sitting atop him and glaring. “You’re not the only one. You don’t get to fucking die before you even ask me to marry you, you jackass.”

 

For a second, Will’s not sure he heard his sister correctly. But judging by the stunned look on Alex’s face and Amelia’s soft, _“Oh,”_ at his side, he thinks he probably did.

 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Alex announces, blinking up at Jules.

 

“I’m really fucking not,” Jules replies, her voice hard. “I want to marry you, you jerk, and that doesn’t _work_ if you go and die on me.”

 

“I ain’t tryin’ to die, you crazy woman!”

 

_“Crazy?”_

 

“Are you really yellin’ at me and asking me to marry you after pullin’ me off the edge of a roof?”

 

“Yes, I damned well am!”

 

Alex just shakes his head. He slowly pushes up into a sitting position on shaky hands. Jules doesn’t budge an inch save to cross her arms, but anyone can see she’s struggling to keep her face implacable as Alex’s hands land on her hips.

 

“That definitely makes you crazy,” he tells hers and her jaw drops. “And it’s gotta be the _worst_ damn proposal in history.”

 

“I don’t see you doing any better,” Jules retorts.

 

“‘Cause I needed another four damn days, chica!” Alex snaps back, just as exasperated. Jules goes very still. _“Four_ days ‘til I got the ring in hand and you gotta yell at me to marry you on a rooftop in our leathers?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Jules insists. “Because you almost died and _right now_ is when I decided I’m done waiting for you to ask, so I’m doing it myself.”

 

“Well, okay then,” he replies. “I guess we’re engaged.”

 

“I guess we are.”

 

The two of them stare at each other for a beat in the strangest stalemate that Will’s ever seen. And then Jules launches herself at Alex. She knocks him back, pinning him to the ground as she kisses the hell out of him. Not to be outdone, Alex doesn’t seem to care his arms were damn near yanked out of their sockets a moment ago as he winds them around Jules and kisses her back with everything he has.

 

Laughs and disbelieving gasps intersperse their kisses as they seal the deal.

 

Will clears his throat, looking away from the happy couple. They deserve their privacy. After all, it’s not even just an engagement they have to celebrate. Will’s not sure he’ll ever forget the terrified look he saw in his best friend’s face, or how close they’d come to losing him. And he knows that Jules’ panic-stricken eyes will stick with him, too. But this is helping. Well... _Sort of._ As happy as he is for them, he’ll never be entirely comfortable watching his little sister maul her boyfriend.

 

 _Fiancé._ Her _fiancé._

 

That’s gonna take some getting used to.

 

When Will looks at Amelia, her cheeks are pink with delight, her lips pressed together in a barely-concealed smile.

 

“I’m pretty sure we’re not needed here anymore,” he tells her.

 

She laughs, glancing past him before looking back and smothering another smile with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’d say they’re good on their own. We should give them a moment before the rest of the team gets here.” They turn to give the couple some semblance of privacy. “Ellie, Sara, and Eric captured two of Domino’s men. Your dad and Digg just brought them to a secure location for Lyla to… to question.” Her voice trips over those words, her reservations about how the team handles its less savory business coming through loud and clear. But she takes a breath and moves on. “They’re all on their way back and I’m _pretty_ sure Felicity was halfway here by the time the word ‘marry’ was spoken out loud.”

 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Will says with a chuckle. He wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her closer before realizing she’s shorter than she had been before. He frowns down at her bare feet against the sharp gravel. “Did you lose your shoes?”

 

“Somewhere in the stairwell. One of the heels broke.”

 

“Okay, Cinderella.” Will grins and scoops her up into his arms without warning. She yelps in surprise, but gives him the most beautiful smile before settling against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. Will brushes a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s find your missing shoes and get you home before the clock strikes midnight.”

 

“Bet it’ll be a fairytale even after it does,” she murmurs, angling her head up to kiss the side of is jaw.

 

Will’s not sure if he believes in happily ever afters. Not for him. But he wants to. And he wants it with her. Maybe it’s possible. His heart swells with hope. Maybe if Jules and Alex can make it work in spite of all they’ve been through, if his dad and Felicity have managed to stay so steady for so many decades…

 

Maybe he and Amelia can, too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely behind on replying to comments (sorry!). I've read them all, but I've had a lot going on this last week. I'll get to them soon, but in the meantime thank you to everyone who left a comment either last chapter or on the PoA chapter last week. <3

They make it to the top step of the brownstone before nerves hit and Amelia turns back toward the car.

 

Will laughs and grabs her elbow. “Amelia.”

 

“Are you sure this is okay?” she asks for the hundredth time, looking at her slacks and blouse. “It’s too dressed up, isn’t it? I should go home and change.”

 

She turns away again and Will chuckles, hooking a finger in her belt loop. “No,” he says, spinning her back to face him. He tucks her hair behind her ear. “You’re perfect. I promise.”

 

It does nothing to settle her racing heart.

 

“Why am I panicking?” Amelia asks. “I see your family all the time. Almost every day. I know them. We literally put our lives in each other’s hands. So, why is this one of the scariest things I’ve ever done?”

 

The lopsided, gentle smile Will gives her does nothing to slow her heart, although it does give it a different reason to race. He brushes his thumb over her cheek. “You already worked through getting them to accept you on the team. That didn’t seem as hard for you.”

 

“It wasn’t,” she replies, working to take a slow breath. She wishes she could hold his hand or wrap an arm around him, but her hands are full. She’d spent the morning compulsively baking things to bring to the Queen’s for their weekly dinner. She’s got a pie in her hands and bags around her wrists carrying two pound cakes, a dozen dinner rolls, and entirely too many homemade croutons.

 

God, she hopes some of it is edible. Just because she stress bakes doesn’t mean she’s any good at it. If history is any judge, the quality of her baking is inversely proportional to her level of nervousness. And, given that…

 

Maybe she should’ve left it all at home. Maybe she should go put it all back in the car right now.

 

Maybe the earth should just open up and swallow her whole.

 

“But coming with me to dinner is rough, huh?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Of course it is,” Amelia says. “It means more.”

 

His face softens, the tiniest hint of a smile curving his lips as he stares at her.

 

“Lots of people are on the team,” she explains. “That’s not personal. There’s only one _you_. If they don’t think I’m good enough for you then-”

 

“Then they’re crazy,” Will interrupts, cupping her face and staring into her eyes. “But there’s no danger of that. Everyone’s happy we’re together.”

 

Amelia snorts. At best, that’s half-true. She’s pretty sure Oliver and Felicity approve, and Nate definitely does. Some days, Ellie seems to like her. But Jules…

 

“Or they will be soon enough,” Will amends, reading her like a book. “Amelia, I love you. And they love me.”

 

“I’m not sure that the transitive property applies here,” she murmurs with a sigh, leaning her cheek into his palm.

 

“They want me to be happy,” he tells her. “And, honey, I’ve never been as happy in my entire life as I am with you.”

 

Amelia melts. With a pie, two cakes, and more baked goods than is entirely necessary still between them, she leans in and presses her chilly lips to his. It warms both of them. He slides a hand back into her hair as the other slips down to press against her lower back, holding her as close as he can with a small bakery’s worth of food in her hands. Amelia lets herself relax, her worries fading away. It’s her and it’s Will. When you boil everything down, there’s never been anything more perfect and simple than that.

 

“Oh!”

 

Amelia jolts and quickly pulls back. It’s a credit to her training in the last few months that she doesn’t drop pie all over the steps. She wishes she could control the furious blush that overtakes her face, but she can’t. And there’s only so much blaming the cold air when she’s thirty-one and just got busted kissing her boyfriend by his stepmother on her front step.

 

“Hi,” Amelia blurts out, shoving the baked goods at Felicity with outstretched arms. “I made pie. And… other things.”

 

Will chuckles and drops a kiss on her shoulder. Felicity takes the food, peeking inside the bags with surprised ‘o’-shaped lips.

 

“I bake when I’m nervous,” Amelia tells her in a rush. The words are out faster than her brain can keep up and even though she thinks, _‘Oh my God, shut up,’_ her mouth keeps moving. “I’m not actually very good at it, but it’s soothing, and I like having a set of directions to follow. It helps and I, uh… Hopefully it’s all okay.”

 

Felicity looks up with a kind smile that Amelia couldn’t be more grateful for if she tried. “I’m sure it’ll be loads better than anything I could do.”

 

Amelia blanches. Did she just accidentally insult the woman? “Oh no, I’m sure that’s not true.”

 

“It really is,” Will says. Amelia swings incredulous eyes to him. Is _he_ insulting his stepmother now? At the look on her face, Will just laughs, which _doesn’t help_. “Trust me, Felicity is amazing at a lot of things, but baking is absolutely not one of them.”

 

Felicity shrugs. “Everyone has to have a flaw. Mine just happens to include anything involving the kitchen. Unless you count coffee. I make a mean cup of coffee. Anyway, get in here, you two, it’s freezing out there. And we should probably free up the front step for the next set of lovebirds heading over for dinner.”

 

Will’s hand at her lower back urges Amelia to enter before him. “Jules and Alex aren’t here yet?”

 

“No, they are,” Felicity replies as Will shrugs out of his coat. “We’re waiting on Nate and Yvette.”

 

“Oh,” Will says, moving to help Amelia out of her coat. Really, it’s _his_ coat, but she’s been wearing it pretty much non-stop since the moment he draped it over her shoulders at the police station. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, considering he hasn’t done anything to get it back from her. Since she doesn’t have any plans to return it, that makes her very happy. She watches him hang up their coats as he asks, “Yvette’s in town?”

 

“Her plane landed a little over an hour ago,” Felicity replies. “Spur of the moment trip, I guess. She had a few days off of school and wanted to surprise him. She didn’t tell him she was coming until her layover in National City. They should be here soon, though. They were just going to go drop off her bags before joining us for dinner.”

 

Will purses his lips with a pathetic excuse for a nod. “Yes. That’s definitely what they’re doing.”

 

Amelia smacks his shoulder as Felicity makes a face at him.

 

“ _Luggage_ , William,” Felicity says. “Your brother is just helping her carry her bags into her parents’ house.”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Will replies, raising his eyebrows and holding up his hands in supplication. “And I’m _certain_ she’ll be sleeping at her parents’ house while she’s in town.”

 

Felicity waves the bag of rolls at her stepson with a loud, “ _Ah ah ah!_ I don’t need to hear these things!”

 

“All I’m saying is-”

 

“ _William Christopher_.”

 

“Strawberry rhubarb,” Amelia interjects. Both Will and Felicity cast her strange looks. “The pie,” she clarifies, nodding to the dessert in Felicity’s hands. “I know that’s too tart for some people, so I made pound cakes, too. I was going to do some maple-pecan shortbread squares, but then I remembered you’re allergic to nuts. So, everything’s nut-free.”

 

The non-sequitur more than worked, as Will furrows his brows at her. “When did I tell you that?”

 

“You didn’t,” she replies. “Your dad mentioned it. Um… At the campground.”

 

Will’s jaw drops. “You remembered for more than a decade that my mom’s allergic to nuts?”

 

“It was the night we met, Will,” Amelia says, shaking her head at him. “I remember everything about that day.” The shell-shocked look on his face has her realizing she’s never shared that with him. But it’s _true_. From the first glimpse of him shirtless by the fire to the way the air sizzled as he caught sight of her bathing in the river later that day, it’s all seared into her memory. Amelia gives a tiny shrug. “That day changed my life. In every way possible.”

 

A smile touches his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a hesitancy that’s always there when she says things like this. He wants to believe her, she thinks, to trust that this is as deep and long-standing for her as it is for him. But he’s slower to accept it. She doesn’t blame him. She hasn’t exactly given him a million and one reasons to think, much less _know_ , that this is every bit _it_ for her as it is for him. But that’s okay, she thinks, because she’s not going anywhere. She’s here, and she’s staying, and even if it takes the next forty years for him to finally get it - to know it with every fiber of his being like she does - she’ll wait.

 

“Do you know what I remember from that day?” Felicity asks.

 

Amelia starts and looks at the older woman. Felicity hands the baked goods to Will without looking at him, fully expecting him to take them before she loops her arm through Amelia’s and starts walking her further into the house.

 

“You weren’t there,” is the only thing that comes out of Amelia’s mouth. She wants to smack herself in the forehead.

 

“No,” Felicity confirms. “I wasn’t. But I do remember my husband coming home and telling me he was pretty sure our oldest found the perfect girl for him... And that he made out with her friend.”

 

Amelia laughs as Will trails after them with a low, “Oh my God,” under his breath.

 

Felicity snorts, gently patting Amelia’s arm with a wink. If she’s trying to put Amelia at ease, it’s working. Her effortlessly friendly nature smoothes everything out, making the conversation suddenly feel... Well, effortless. Maybe that’s the wrong word, Amelia thinks. Maybe there’s a great deal of effort involved. Maybe she’s going out of her way to make a statement of approval and acceptance.

 

Amelia’s always liked Felicity, but her appreciation for Will’s stepmother shoots up by leaps and bounds. She could have made everything so much harder. Other women would have, Amelia thinks, particularly given the way things started between them when Amelia first showed up in the lair. But Felicity is the sort of woman to step back and look at the whole picture, to reevaluate and make adjustments to her perspective as things change.

 

And Amelia could not be more grateful for it.

 

“I can’t really blame him,” Amelia says, tilting her head conspiratorially towards Felicity. “He’s got good taste. Maggie’s been my best friend since college. And she’s definitely eye-catching. Always has been.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” Felicity asks, eyes widening in a full-blown play of innocence. She glances back at Will. “Is Maggie still as eye-catching as she was back in college?”

 

“Why are you trying to get me in trouble?” Will demands. “There’s no possible way I can answer that.”

 

“Smart man,” Oliver interjects with a chuckle from the doorway to the kitchen.

 

“You can say she is, you know,” Amelia tells Will, wrinkling her nose at him to show she’s messing with him. “I’m far from threatened by you recognizing that another woman is beautiful. Hell, I think she’s gorgeous.”

 

“Doesn’t matter if she is or not,” Will replies, leveling Amelia with a look that freezes her in place. The intensity in his blue eyes pushes her pulse to race and stops her breath. “If I’d spotted you first back then, I’d never have looked anywhere else. You had my attention from the first time I saw you and it’s only grown as I’ve gotten to know you. How the hell could anyone else catch my eye when you’re right here?”

 

For a moment the only sound is Jules’ laughter from a few rooms over followed by the low rumble of Alex’s laugh. But even those noises fade away as the world around them disappears, leaving just her and Will. She tries to breathe, to form words, to _think_. Anything…

 

“Oh,” is all she manages.

 

“Now _that’s_ how you answer that question,” Felicity says with an approving smile. The older woman’s voice jerks Amelia back to reality, and she’s grounded even more when Felicity pats her arm where they’re still interlocked at the elbow.

 

“Seriously?” Will asks his stepmother.

 

It’s only when the weight of his gaze disappears that Amelia feels like she can breathe again.

 

“Yes, seriously,” Felicity replies.

 

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Amelia murmurs without thinking. She’s still staring at Will. “What would’ve happened back then. How differently our lives might’ve gone, if I’d just walked a step faster.”

 

A shadow falls over Will’s eyes, but it’s gone before she can wonder about it. “All the time, Amelia,” he confesses. It somehow still feels like an understatement. “I wondered that for years.”

 

“We took the long road,” Amelia admits, reaching out and curling her fingers over the edge of his hand where he grips the pie tin. “But we got here. That’s the important part.”

 

“Yeah,” Will whispers. “Yeah, honey, that’s what matters.”

 

Felicity squeezes Amelia’s arm, not even bothering to hide how pleased she is. “Come on,” she urges. “Let me show you to the dining room. We’ll leave the men to finish fixing dinner and start warming the pie.”

 

Will gives Amelia a soft smile as Felicity tugs her away. She feels his gaze linger on her as they head past Oliver through the kitchen and into the dining room. The second they round a corner, she misses the warmth of his eyes on her.

 

For as long as she’s known the Queens, in one fashion or another, she’s never been a guest in their home. Felicity is as aware of that fact as Amelia is, it seems, as she does everything she can to make sure she feels welcome. Heading into the dining room together feels like a statement. They sweep into the room as Ellie and Jules both look up from the vegetable platter they’d been munching on.

 

Of _course_ it’s a statement. Felicity Queen is too brilliant and way too experienced in social settings for anything else. Felicity is telling her daughters that she’s given her unquestionable acceptance and is making it clear that she expects the same from both of them.

 

Amelia’s gratitude toward the woman is nearly overwhelming.

 

“Guess who brought dessert?” Felicity asks, smiling at Jules, Alex, and Ellie in turn. “It’s pie.”

 

Judging by the looks on their faces, both women know exactly what is happening. Jules raises an eyebrow at her mother before casting a wary, but not entirely unwelcome look toward Amelia.

 

Ellie freezes mid-bite of a carrot before humming, chewing the the bite extremely slowly.

 

It occurs to Amelia that the one she might not really have a solid read on right now is actually Ellie. It’s different at headquarters. There’s a sense of purpose when they’re all together there. But here? The younger Queen girl is a stranger. It has butterflies throwing themselves around in Amelia’s stomach all over again, and she swallows hard.

 

“Is it a cream pie?” Jules asks, breaking the silence. The weight of the question implies just how welcome Amelia will be at this dinner if she answers incorrectly.

 

“Uh, strawberry rhubarb,” Amelia replies.

 

Jules makes a noise that might be called impressed as Ellie grabs another carrot, avoiding eye contact completely. Alex ducks his head where he stands behind his fiancée, a knowing grin pulling at his lips before he presses a soft kiss to the back of her head.

 

“That’s my favorite,” Jules admits.

 

Amelia takes a very deep breath. “I hope you like it, then.”

 

“It’s cute how you think we don’t know Will told you ahead of time,” Ellie says, eyes suddenly drilling into Amelia with a cool challenge that leaves the hair on the back of Amelia’s neck rising. The younger woman takes a hearty bite out of her carrot.

 

Maybe Will did _mention_ it…

 

“Kinda nice of her, then, don’t you think?” Jules asks, glancing at Ellie.

 

Amelia’s eyes dart between the sisters. Okay, this is not what she expected. She’d been prepared for the barbs to come flying out with Jules and for Ellie to be on her side, but that’s so far from the truth it leaves her reeling. Jules has softened a bit over the last few months, some of her armor chipping away little by little. But this?

 

She doesn’t know how to navigate this. They aren’t at the bunker. And, like that first day all over again, she’s a familiar stranger in their territory.

 

Ellie shrugs, sitting down at the table with a bored look. “I guess.”

 

From the strained, near-silent sigh from Felicity, Amelia has the sense that the other girl has an uncomfortable conversation with her mother in her future.

 

“Thanks for bringing the pie,” Jules says. Amelia barely keeps her eyebrows from popping up in surprise. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

 

“It’s good to have you here, too,” Alex adds. “Been hoping Will would bring you along for a couple weeks now.”

 

“Our schedules don’t always match up as much as we’d like,” Amelia admits. She tries to smile but it feels more like a grimace. “But I’m really happy to be here.”

 

She can’t help that her eyes drift to Ellie, hoping she’ll melt some of the girl’s icy exterior.

 

Ellie doesn’t even look at her.

 

Jules huffs and rounds the table. “Don’t mind her. She’s been grumbling about being surrounded by sappy couples all afternoon.”

 

“Thank you _so_ much, Jules,” Ellie snaps.

 

“Am I wrong?” Jules asks, lifting an eyebrow at her in challenge.

 

“Chica…” Alex says, giving her a look that has an entire conversation buried in it. Jules sighs in reply and lays off Ellie immediately.

 

But Felicity is another story.

 

“Ellie-bug, would you give me a hand in the kitchen for a few minutes?”

 

The young woman nearly bites through her tongue, looking even more annoyed by the seemingly simple request. But she does as her mother says. She doesn’t say a word as she stalks past Amelia and Jules toward the kitchen. Felicity gives Jules a meaningful look before patting Amelia on the shoulder with a warm, “Make yourself at home,” before following her younger daughter.

 

“Is Ellie mad at me?” Amelia asks Jules.

 

“She’s mad at the world right now,” Jules replies, gesturing broadly with her left hand. If she’s trying to draw attention to her brand new engagement ring, it’s working very well. Jules Queen is a lot of things, but subtle is not one of them. “Nate’s bringing Yvette. Will’s got you. Alex and I are getting married. And she’s… She’s her own worst enemy.”

 

“Don’t help that Sara’s got a boyfriend,” Alex notes, leaning against a wall. He’s talking to Amelia, but his eyes are on Jules, a soft smile playing at his lips. It’s sweet, really, the way the two of them have a constant awareness of each other’s presence. She wonders if she and Will are the same. Alright, she wonders if _Will’s_ the same. She knows she pays more attention to him than not.

 

No wonder Ellie’s irked.

 

Sometimes, it seems to Amelia like the two vigilantes are like jigsaw puzzle pieces that look like they should form a picture, but don’t quite fit together. At first, when she’d joined the team, the tension seemed mutual, but then something shifted. It had taken her a few days to realize what had changed, and when she did, it was with a pang of sympathy for both women.

 

Sara gave up.

 

Amelia might not know precisely what that feels like, to have the presumed love of your life decide you’re not worth fighting for, but she’s got a good enough imagination to feel for them both anyhow.

 

But, it’s not like any of the couples Ellie’s facing today are exactly _news_.

 

“You’re sure?” Amelia asks again, gripping the back of a chair. “If I did something to upset her-”

 

“Well, you haven’t fucked up in the field yet,” Jules says, nailing Amelia with a hard look that immediately puts Amelia on edge. Okay, so maybe things aren’t as copacetic as she thought. “In fact, you saved Will’s ass and you did your best to get to me and Alex on that rooftop. You’ve proven you’re not a total liability behind a mask.”

 

“Uh… thanks,” Amelia replies. “I think.”

 

“As for the rest of it,” Jules continues, her gaze unwavering. “We all want Will to be happy. He deserves it. And you seem to make him happy. So as long as you don’t hurt him, we’ll be just fine. You get me?”

 

If Amelia weren’t completely invested in her relationship with Will, the look on Jules’ face combined with the knowledge of what the other woman could do to her would have sent her scurrying for the hills.

 

But she is invested, way more than anyone seems to appreciate. It’s high time that changes.

 

“You can tell Ellie that the only thing I want is to be the one who makes him smile every day for as long as he lets me,” Amelia tells her. “The last thing I want to do is hurt him.”

 

The scrutinizing look Jules hits her with is sharp enough to cut through bone, but Amelia doesn’t waver an inch. When Jules breaks into an almost friendly grin that dominates her entire face, Amelia has to stop herself from blanching.

 

“She’ll be happy to hear it,” Jules informs her.

 

“What’d I tell you?” Alex asks, shaking his head at his fiancée. “Boy’s been on cloud nine for weeks, starin’ at pictures on his phone with that dopey smile of his.”

 

Jules rolls her eyes. “I know he’s happy _now._ ”

 

“Look at you, all concerned about the future.” Alex grins. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

 

“I’m the one who proposed, aren’t I?”

 

“If you wanna get technical, you didn’t ask. You _announced_ ,” Alex reminds her. “And as far as my mama knows, I got on one knee after I asked your dad for your hand an’ it’s gotta stay that way.”

 

Jules wrinkles her nose. “Asked my _dad_ for my _hand?_ ”

 

“Don’t go gettin’ all mad about somethin’ I didn’t even do.”

 

“I don’t need my father’s permission to get married,” Jules tells him, completely ignoring his request. He seems to have fully expected it considering how hard his eyes roll. “And he’s _definitely_ not someone who gets to decide for me if my choice is okay or not. What kind of patriarchal twentieth century bullshit is that? How much of a dowry does your mom think I ha-”

 

“Can I see your ring?” Amelia asks before the conversation can veer wildly out of control.

 

It’s impossible to miss Alex’s sigh of relief, but past a mild, annoyed glare his way, Jules lets herself get distracted by the question. She holds out her left hand with a delighted smile that takes over her entire face. For all the fire in her a second ago, there’s something giddy and girlish about her now. Her cheeks go pink and her eyes light up as she shows off the ring.

 

“It’s beautiful. Definitely one of a kind,” Amelia says before looking past Jules to Alex. “Lovely choice.”

 

“He had it made for me,” Jules says, unable to restrain her grin. It’s a fact that clearly means a lot to her. “He took a photo of the first painting I did about our relationship and brought it with him to the jeweler. He asked her to try and mirror it somehow. That’s why the stones are all different. They’re the same colors as the painting.”

 

It explains the shape, too. The rectangular cluster of stones has an almost art deco feel to it. It’s not a typical engagement ring by any means, and that makes it even more well-suited for Jules.

 

As is Alex.

 

“It’s stunning,” Amelia says. “And incredibly thoughtful. But more than that, it’s from the right person. Take it from me, that means everything.”

 

Jules glances back at Alex with a gentle affection that seems foreign on her face. Judging by the way Alex smiles and winks at her, it’s something he sees all the time. “Yeah,” Jules says. “It does.”

 

The moment lasts long enough that Amelia almost feels like she’s intruding.

 

“You know,” Jules says, looking back at Amelia. “You make it really hard to hate you.”

 

Amelia’s eyes widen and she lets Jules’ fingers go. “I’d apologize, but I’m fairly certain I’m not sorry about that.”

 

“I wanted to,” Jules tells her. “But you’re here, and you’ve stuck around, even when I made it hard for you. You even stuck around when _Will_ made it hard for you.”

 

Amelia stares at her for a beat. “I didn’t show up for him. If I _had_ then I’d have left the first time he told me to. But I found the lair for me, because it was something that I needed to do. I told you that and I meant it.”

 

“I know,” Jules replies. “Doing what you did, taking the risks you took… That takes character. And I respect character. But more than that, you made him start smiling again. And it was only when he started that I realized he’d stopped in the first place. His _real_ smile, I mean. Not the one he wears for everyone but himself. I love my brother with all my heart, Amelia, and if you can make him smile like that again… Well, then maybe I should stop trying so damned hard to hate you and start trying to actually get to know you.”

 

For a second, Amelia’s positive she misheard the other woman. But Jules stands in front of her waiting for some kind of response without any air of hostility.

 

All Amelia can do is blink.

 

It’s the very first time that she can remember Jules having a welcoming face. It’s still sly, still a touch haughty, like she’s holding tight to some kind of secret she’s decided not to share. But she also thinks that might just be _Jules_. And to hear Will talk about his sister, Amelia thinks there must be a fiercely loyal layer to the other woman that sits just beneath the hardened façade she wears. _That_ side of Jules, the part that isn’t all barbed-wire words and unyielding glares, seems like someone worth getting to know.

 

“I’d like that,” Amelia replies.

 

She thinks she catches a touch of relief in Jules’ eyes and she wonders if she wasn’t the only one worried about their relationship.

 

“Good,” Jules says. “I have to go shopping sometime next week. I need a new dress for this dinner thing with some of my clients. Maybe you’d like to come with me and give an opinion.”

 

A rush of excitement almost has Amelia blurting out her agreement. The thought of spending time with her - of being _asked_ to - is enough to have her grinning until her face breaks. Jules is about as important to Will as a person can get and the idea that she’s extending an olive branch now has Amelia nodding a little too emphatically. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

“We should bring Beth,” Jules adds. Amelia’s heart immediately drops. “She loves shopping.”

 

“Oh, well…” Amelia swallows hard. “I’m not sure. I mean... Will hasn’t exactly introduced us yet.”

 

Jules’ head jerks back. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

 

Nerves rocket through Amelia’s stomach again as she clasps her hands together, picking at her nails. She smiles as she shrugs. Well, she tries to smile. What her face actually looks like right now is anyone’s guess.

 

She’s wondered herself what the deal was with Beth, but she hasn’t pushed it, not wanting to make Will uneasy. As validating as the wide-eyed look Jules is giving her right now might be, it’s also making her insides twist with her own brand of confusion. Somewhere in the background, Alex sighs and grumbles something under his breath.

 

“Beth stays at his place all the time,” Jules says. “You guys have been together for _weeks_.”

 

“A little over a month, actually,” Amelia corrects, as if that makes a difference. Considering the disbelieving look Jules gives her, it really doesn’t. “Beth’s in school and she’s got her dad and her friends and hobbies and all of that. Will doesn’t exactly have an easy schedule. And between my work and team things, it’s hard to get timing straightened out.”

 

“Bullshit,” Jules says, cutting right through Amelia’s rationalizations. “Is this him? Or did you want to hold off on meeting her?”

 

“It’s not…” Amelia tries before she realizes what she’s about to say. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

 

The annoyance on Jules’ face isn’t what bothers Amelia. No, it’s the flash of pity that really makes her uneasy. It’s there and gone in the blink of an eye, but it’s enough for Amelia’s stomach to pitch. She’s secure in her feelings for Will and in his feelings for her. She is…

 

Most of the time.

 

But then there’s moments like earlier when he looked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. Or like now, with Jules questioning things she worked so hard to tell herself were just fine. Times like these, doubt creeps in. Moments where she knows he’s holding back, times he bites his tongue when she’s positive he has more to say. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to explain things away, especially when he looks at her with an intensity that’s all-encompassing and makes her feel like she is _it_ for him.

 

 _Maybe she isn’t, after all_.

 

The thought has Amelia nearly biting through the inside of her lip, but a clatter of footfalls and chatter erupts behind her, creating a distraction. She doesn’t turn as others enter the room, but Jules’ attention definitely shifts.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jules asks.

 

“Uh… Carrying salad?” Will offers, confusion evident in his voice. Balancing the bowl in one hand, he touches Amelia’s back. She sucks her lip between her teeth as she gives him a nervous sideways glance. “What…?”

 

“You haven’t introduced Amelia to Beth?” Jules demands. “Why the hell not?”

 

Will’s nose crinkles and he gives a sharp laugh before breaking into a smile. The sort he makes for everyone but himself, Amelia thinks. The sight of it grips Amelia’s heart with claws.

 

“It’s just timing,” Will says with a shrug. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

 

Amelia would be fine accepting that and moving on. But Jules is not.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Jules tells him, paying no heed to Alex who subtly sidles up next to her and tells her to stop. “But more importantly, Will, neither does your girlfriend.”

 

Amelia closes her eyes on a sigh. Will’s hand stills against her back and she doesn’t have to be looking to know everyone’s eyes turn to her. Once upon a time she’d have shied away, taken the easy route and played it off, burying her own unspoken truths in order to keep the peace. But that’s exactly the kind of woman she’s been fighting to get away from.

 

Instead she opens her eyes and turns to meet Will’s gaze.

 

A whole conversation lives in the space between them, but they don’t say a single word.

 

“ _Okay_ ,” Felicity says loudly, taking the salad bowl from Will and placing it on the table. She points at Alex. “You’re going to come help me get some wine glasses and Jules, you’re going to see if you can find out when your little brother will be here.”

 

“We’re going to be anywhere but here, you mean?” Jules asks.

 

“Yes, Julianna,” her mother replies, the words holding an edge. “That’s exactly what I mean. We’re going to give them a moment. Now move your tush and get out of the room.”

 

The dead silence that fills the dining room when the others leave is stifling.

 

Will lets his hand fall away from her and sighs heavily, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“Say it,” Amelia tells him, even though the words are a struggle.

 

“I’ve never introduced _any_ woman to Beth,” Will says.

 

It’s a plea and an admission all rolled into one. And it _hurts_ , even if Amelia tries to pretend it doesn’t.

 

“You could’ve just told me that,” she whispers. “Instead of saying she was busy.”

 

“She _was_ busy, honey,” he implores, moving to comfort her. “I didn’t lie to you.”

 

“No,” Amelia agrees, hooking her thumbs in her pant pockets and shaking her head at him. His hands pause mid-air, a pained look striking his face. “But you definitely only told me what was convenient to say.”

 

Will clears his throat. His eyebrow twitches as he considers his words. “Neither one of us was ready for this conversation, but… Jules is Jules, so here we are.”

 

There’s some truth to that, she thinks. It is early in their relationship, depending on how one views it. She can give him that, but it’s an extra body blow to realize they _still_ wouldn’t be having this conversation if it weren’t for his sister. He must see that because he continues on without waiting for her to speak.

 

“Beth has so few people in her life,” he says, every line of his face begging for her to understand. “And she gets attached so quickly. She acts tough, but she’s just a kid and she’s fragile underneath it all. I can’t rush things with her.”

 

Amelia exhales a slow breath through thinned lips. “You’re trying to protect her.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“From _me_.”

 

The statement hangs in the air and Will’s lack of denial just cements it. The silent confirmation twists at Amelia’s insides and crushes her heart with an intensity that leaves her breathless as she whispers, “Wow.”

 

“I love you,” Will tells her, taking a step forward. His fingers graze her elbow and she winces when his touch burns. It’s only then that she realizes her hand’s on her stomach like she’s trying to keep an emotional wound from bleeding out. “I love _us_. But, Amelia… We’ve had a lot of false starts over the last decade. There’ve been so many ‘almosts’ and ‘maybes’ between us. I’m grateful we’re finally together and my heart has always, _always_ been yours.”

 

Amelia bites her lip hard. “But?”

 

He pauses before looking her square in the eye. “But I can’t risk hers.”

 

She sways a little at that, covering her eyes with her free hand. Her fingers shake and a vague sense of nausea takes root.

 

“You think we won’t last,” she realizes. She drops her hand to find him watching her with a pained expression she wishes she couldn’t read so well. “You think I’ll leave.”

 

“I think I’m grateful,” Will says. “I’m grateful for every minute that I get with you… No matter how many that is.”

 

The mixture of emotions that slam into her is too much to quantify. It’s _too much_. The reality that he’s willing to be with her even though he isn’t convinced she’s going to stay speaks volumes about their relationship and what he thinks of himself. And her. It’s too much to unpack right now, but she knows she’ll be awake all night thinking it through over and over again.

 

She did this, didn’t she? This is because of her, all of it.

 

Amelia sucks in a quick breath, closing her eyes for a beat. God, this is going to keep her up for weeks. At the very least until she sees his real smile again.

 

“Okay,” Amelia says softly with a weak shrug. “Okay, then I guess it’s clear what I have to do.”

 

His face falters. And then his shoulders drop. His brow furrows and his eyes turn glassy in a way that doesn’t make sense until he’s speaking again, his voice rough and uneven. “Did you want me to get your coat for you and see you out? I’ll tell them… I’ll tell them whatever you want me to tell them.”

 

“What?” Amelia shakes her head in a quick jerk. “What are you talking about, Will? I’m not going anywhere.” His eye twitches as confusion plays out across his face. For a split second, she wonders if he wants her to go before his features soften in a faint ray of hopefulness. It hits her just how much damage she’s done to him. Amelia lets out a heavy breath and closes the distance between them. “Not now, not later. You’re _it_ for me, Will Queen. I’ve known that for a long time, since way before I was ready for what that meant. What I have to do is prove it to you. This is not a false start or a maybe. This is _us_ and it will be for as long as you let it. I love you. And my heart is yours just as much as you say that yours is mine.”

 

Will licks his lips, his eyes fluttering away. “Amelia, I don’t…”

 

“I’ll stop asking to see Beth,” she promises. “I’d love to, but I’m not going to push you. And if _you’re_ not sure I’ll stay, that’s what we need to focus on now anyway. I don’t know how long it’ll take until you stop holding your breath when I leave the room or touching me like you’re afraid I might disappear any second, but sooner or later it _will_. And I know I’m willing to wait. Because I know that we’re worth it. Being loved by you has always been worth it. Learning that the hard way ensured it’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

 

Watching him come to terms with the idea that she’s not leaving is both heart-wrenching and heartening. He shifts from broken and defeated to wary and hopeful right before her eyes, a vulnerability he clearly hates etched in every inch of him.

 

It breaks her heart to realize they aren’t as solid as she thought, but it also cements her resolve.

 

He touches her cheek like he can’t quite believe she’s real. Amelia leans into the warmth of his palm, even if his insecurities hurt.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

 

“I really wish you would,” she says, her voice thick.

 

He moves slowly, cupping her face with both hands and stroking his thumbs along her cheeks with a gentle sense of wonder. Then, he leans in and touches his lips to hers. The kiss is unhurried and soft. And it’s _them_. Amelia sighs in relief against his mouth, sliding her hands up his chest to grab hold of his shirt and keep him close. He savors her as much as she does him, taking his time like he did under that streetlamp, kissing her with a long, slow press of his lips to hers.

 

When it ends, he touches his forehead to hers and she releases a shuddering breath as she grips his shirt harder. As if he didn’t already have a way of making her head spin, with the emotional tumult, it’s even worse now. But he’s also her anchor and she needs him. She _always_ needs him. It’s startling to realize he has no idea how much.

 

“I love you,” Amelia breathes.

 

“I love you, too,” he replies. And she knows that. She _does_. She just wishes she could have faith that he believed her, too. Will’s lips brush over hers. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

 

She tries not to laugh, but a puff of air still escapes her. She pulls back so she can look him in the eye. “Ten years, Will,” Amelia reminds him, smoothing down his shirt before wrapping her arms around his neck. She strokes the soft hair there. “I hardly think I’m the patient one. I understand why you might need a little time for this to feel real, and that’s okay, because I know it is. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Okay.” He relaxes under her touch. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Sure you do,” Amelia replies. “We deserve each other.”

 

A thoughtful look flits through his eyes, but he just sighs and presses his forehead to hers. When she pushes her hands up into his hair, he melts against her, sliding his hands around her waist and up her back, cradling her close. He’s so tactile, her Will, craves touch and affection more than she could’ve ever anticipated. And it feeds something in her to be able to share that with him, to grow this sense of comfort and unity between them. She’s never been so attuned to someone before, found herself aching to be near them, to touch and be touched in the simplest of ways.

 

There’s a distinct before and after in her mind. The moment where she first kissed him was a doorway in her life and from the instant she walked through it, she knew she was firmly on the right side.

 

There’s no going back. There never has been.

 

“Oh my God. Is there any room in this house where someone isn’t making out?”

 

Amelia doesn’t let Will go, but she does turn to look back at a thoroughly irritated Ellie standing in the doorway.

 

“I take it that means Nate and Yvette are here?” Will asks, his hands settling on Amelia’s hips, not letting her get far even if she wanted to.

 

“Yes,” Ellie replies in a bone-dry voice. “Nate and Yvette are here.”

 

The couple enters the room as if summoned with a bemused Oliver right behind them.

 

While Amelia hasn’t met Yvette before, she quickly finds the teenager to be bubbly and excited with eyes so bright and wide-eyed that it seems like they might be trying to take in the whole world. Nate, for his part, is clearly besotted. Every inch of his attention remains fixed on his girlfriend. And she’s obviously a bit of a social butterfly. First, melting Ellie’s chilly exterior with remarkable ease before introducing herself to Amelia with the most genuine, warm handshake she can ever remember receiving.

 

“She’s charming,” Amelia murmurs to Nate as Yvette spots Jules entering the room. The teenager makes a beeline for her to gush over Jules’ engagement ring. Even Jules seems to like her. “I can definitely see what drew you to her.”

 

“Other than the obvious,” Will chimes in with a sly grin at his brother. Amelia slides a look to her boyfriend before doing a slight double take. At some point, Nate actually got taller than his older brother.

 

“Uh, what?” Nate asks, running his hands through the flop he calls hair, as if that would do any good considering the state it’s currently in.

 

Will sniggers. “You’ve got yourself a love bite on your hip, Bug,” he tells his little brother who immediately slaps a hand over the spot. “Maybe don’t reach overhead for anything else for the rest of the night, huh? Definitely keep your shirt tucked in.”

 

Nate nearly turns purple with embarrassment as Will laughs. It’s so good to see him in good humor, especially given the rest of the night. Amelia watches with a small smile that’s a little sad. She can’t help but wonder how long this amusement will last and what will be left behind when it goes.

 

“Uh…” Nate swallows hard with a panicked look. “She’s just… I mean, she’s _really_ far away and we just… Look, she’s been my girlfriend for a _year_ , okay?”

 

“Believe me, buddy, I am the very last person who would judge you,” Will replies. “Just maybe make sure Mom doesn’t see.”

 

Amelia covers her lips to hide her amusement at the ragged breath Nate exhales. The young man’s eyes dart back to his girlfriend as he absently ensures his shirt is tucked in. “Missing her gets hard, you know?” he says, chewing his lip as he thinks. His face slowly returns to a slightly more normal color. “She’s gone so much.”

 

“I know,” Amelia agrees, leaning into Will’s side. He rubs her back and she thinks that he feels the resonance of Nate’s musings as much as she does. “Distance can hurt, in more ways than one. But it’s just for school, right? And she’s here now. I suggest you enjoy the time you have and hold onto it for as long as you can. Maybe, in a few years, circumstances will change and it’ll get easier.”

 

“Maybe,” Nate agrees. He flashes a smile at Amelia and Will. It’s innocent and naïve. So much so that it stands out in stark contrast to the overgrown boy who walked in with the tousled hair and a hickey on his hip. “I mean, look at you two.”

 

Amelia blinks. “What?”

 

“How many years has it been?” Nate asks. “All that back and forth, all those times it seemed like nothing would ever happen, and yet here you are with everything worked out. If you can do that, maybe Yvette and I can, too. Maybe everything will end up perfect, just like it is with you guys.”

 

Amelia has to force the smile that curves her lips. Nate’s words on the heels of what just happened are like a white hot poker through the chest. If he’d said that to her a couple of hours ago, she would have readily agreed, even telling him that anything is possible if he works for it. That might still be true, but it doesn’t change how much damage the road getting there can do, does it? She almost tells him that before stopping herself. That’s not what he needs right now. He needs reassurance.

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she manages, giving him a soft nod. Will makes tiny circles against her back with his fingers and she fights to concentrate on that. “Maybe everything will be perfect.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for PTSD on this chapter. We'll deal increasingly with Will's mental health from here on out. I'm not going to warn for PTSD every chapter that deals with it. You can assume it's dealt with in some way for most of the rest of the story. As always, you are free to message me if you have concerns about upcoming content and whether it will be safe for you to read. I'll warn for other potential triggers in the future still, but not PTSD for the rest of this story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, all! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Get away. _Get away. Get away!_

 

Will scrambles, tumbling to the carpet in a heap. A twist of sheets tangles around his feet, trapping his movements. Panic erupts in his chest and he shouts, kicking to free himself. The sheet clings to him, wrapping tighter as he struggles against it. He can’t see, can’t hear, can’t even think as he shoves himself backward until his shoulders slam into the wall.

 

It’s not far enough. It’s not safe. The instinct to escape electrifies him. He scrapes at the surface of the wall with sweat-slickened fingertips as if it might give way if he just claws hard enough.

 

His throat closes up as the suffocating feeling of being trapped swamps him. He tears at the fabric entangling his legs with a mindless, instinct-born sense of panic. His blunt nails scrape his own skin hard enough that it stings, but that doesn’t slow him down.

 

Getting free is the only thing that matters.  

 

But it’s hopeless. He chokes on a sob as he claws uselessly at the knotted sheet. He can’t get away. He can never escape, no matter how hard he tries. It won’t let him go.

 

A hand touches his shoulder, and he jumps, a rush of adrenaline surging through him as he bats the hand away and pushes himself sideways down the wall toward a corner. His heart pounds a desperate tattoo against his ribcage, crowding his lungs until he can scarcely suck in short, shallow sips of air. His head collides with the wall, but the throbbing sensation that follows feels muted, as does the sound of something crashing to the floor.

 

He flinches, pulling his knees up to curl his body into a ball.

 

It’s not until something tugs at his feet and he kicks against it, finally freeing him of the sheet, that reality slowly starts to seep in. But none of it makes sense.

 

He’s in his room, in his own home, surrounded by everything familiar. He’s safe.

 

That feels wrong, though. He _knows_ it’s wrong. Adrenaline cuts a vicious swath through him, feeding a fight-or-flight response that has him feeling more like a wounded animal than a man. His heart races so fast that his head swims, and a screaming roar fills his ears as he shakes hard enough to rattle his teeth.

 

Somewhere in the distance a low murmur of indistinct words echoes. It’s too faint to make out the words, too far away, but the tone…

 

He knows the tone. It’s soft and gentle. Soothing. Worried, but calming…

 

And familiar.

 

Will’s chest loosens and he blinks, trying to clear his vision. Sweat drips into his eyes. The sting roots him in the moment more than the rugburn against the backs of his thighs or the harsh edge of his dresser pressing into his hip.

 

But it still doesn’t add up.

 

The voice continues. It cuts through his thoughts, anchoring him. He knows that voice.

 

“Amelia?” he croaks.

 

“I’m here,” she replies in a steady, gentle tone. Will wipes his eyes too hard, not caring when it makes them burn even more, because he finally sees her. She crouches near his feet, her lips cutting a harsh, concerned line over her pale face. “You’re home. You’re safe and I’m here.”

 

Shame drenches him and nausea rips through him at the realization that she’s both worried and _scared_ because of him. Will squeezes his eyes shut to get away from it. Dreams like this don’t happen often anymore. He’d stupidly let himself think they would disappear entirely, because things are good. He’s happy and moving on with his life. But apparently this is just who he is now: a broken man who tried to piece himself back together, but can’t fix the cracks.

 

He never wanted her to see him like this. He never wanted _anyone_ to see him like this.

 

“You’re okay,” she repeats.

 

He’s not. He hasn’t been okay in years and he doesn’t think he ever will be again.

 

“I can’t…” Will starts, but the words don’t come. He opens his eyes and stares at his bare feet, at the scratches there. He did that. Shame chokes him and his hands shake even more. They tremble so hard they don’t even feel like his own. Will presses them to his forehead, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps. His face crumples on a broken, “Oh my God.”

 

Only his unsteady breathing fills the silence that follows. He can’t even look at her.

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

Will curls in on himself without thinking about it as he shakes his head fiercely. The sensation of touch would be too much right now. His skin feels wrong, oversensitized and aching. But more than that, he doesn’t want to taint her. Letting it spill over onto her wouldn’t be right. This is his problem, his battle, and she doesn’t need to fight it, too.

 

“Okay,” Amelia says. He wants her to get up and leave, to leave him to collect the broken bits of himself in private where no one can see how shattered he’s become. But instead she sits down and tucks her legs beneath her just a few inches away from him. She’s close enough that he feels her warmth. He almost tells her to run as far away from him as possible before the shards of his broken soul cut her deep enough to bleed. He _should_ tell her that, but he doesn’t have it in him. “Take a breath, Will. Slow it down.”

 

He tries. He owes her that much. But it doesn’t work.

 

“Look at me?”

 

It’s the hesitancy in her voice that has him looking up. Letting her see how damned embarrassed and scared he is goes against everything in him, but he can’t let her feel like any of this is her fault. The gentle concern staring back at him doesn’t feel earned, but he latches onto it anyway. It’s a lifeline. He doesn’t deserve it, but God, he _needs_ it. He’s fought against this on his own for so long, hiding it from everyone in his life, and he’s so tired. The relief he feels at the way her face softens for him wrenches loose a stray sob from his throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry, Amelia.”

 

“For what?” she asks, confusion furrowing her brow. God, how can she not see it?

 

“For being so fucking weak,” he whispers. “For being so broken. I’m so sorry, you deserve so much better.”

 

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” she says, shaking her head as she reaches out to touch him. She catches herself before her fingers connect, though, and frustration twists her face as her hand clenches mid-air instead.

 

It only underscores everything for Will.

 

“It’s true,” he adds with a weak shrug. “Pretending it’s not gets so exhausting. Pretending I’m the same man you fell in love with is such a lie. He’s dead, Amelia. He died years ago on the floor of that fucking museum and I’m sorry because he might’ve deserved you. But I don’t.”

 

“Stop,” she orders, the quiver in her words adding a pitch to her voice he’s never heard. Distress and fear clash in her delicate features and he hates it. He hates it even more knowing that it’s because of him. Amelia’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m not asking you to pretend anything. So _stop_. We can… we can talk about the rest of it later. For now, can you… For now, I need you to watch me, okay? Copy me.”

 

He frowns, not understanding.

 

“Just do this for me. Please.”

 

Will nods, because it’s her and he’s never been able to deny her anything. Vulnerability threatens to slice him to ribbons, but he doesn’t look away from her. He can’t. She slowly places her own palm to her bare chest and takes a long, slow breath. She releases it just as slowly.

 

“Just like this,” she says. “You can’t control everything, honey, but you can control this. Hand to your chest. Inhale as slow as you can.”

 

He shakes his head. It seems pointless, like counting grains of sand on a beach.

 

“Please, Will.”

 

He mimics her actions, doing it because it’s her that’s asking.

 

Slowly, so painfully slow, it starts to help. But even with his breaths steadying and his heart no longer feeling like it might burst, he doesn’t see the point. It doesn’t solve anything. He’s no less broken than before. He’s still shaking, even if it’s mostly from the cooling sheen of sweat that leaves him sticky and frozen to the bone.

 

Yet it seems like a victory to Amelia, if the smile on her face is any indication. Will clings to that, staring at the curve of her mouth.

 

“Good,” she says. “That’s really good, Will. You’re doing great.”

 

“I’m a mess,” he replies. He waits for the inevitable understanding to fill her eyes. One day it’ll click and she’ll back off, blinking like she’s coming out of a trance. She’ll agree and ask what she’s doing here when she could be anywhere else.

 

It doesn’t come. Not today.

 

“You’re human,” Amelia tells him, sliding her other hand across the carpet, letting her fingers rest a bare inch away from his hand. His eyes drop to them. He wants to close the distance, but he can’t bring himself to do that to her. “We’re all a bit of a mess.”

 

Will shakes his head, a pained laugh escaping him that morphs into a sob as it spills past his lips.

 

“It’s like I’m there all over again,” he admits, his voice catching on a ragged gasp for air. He stares at her fingers. The space between them feels like miles. “Sometimes I remember it so clearly that it feels more real than anything else. Sometimes it’s just the feelings… Sometimes I’m not even asleep when it happens. All of a sudden I’m just lying on the floor, dying all over again.”

 

Amelia’s fingers twitch like she’s having trouble keeping still. No, he thinks, he can’t let her think that this is her burden, that it’s her fight. Will inches his hand forward until their fingers brush. She sighs, her hand relaxing at the contact. His doesn’t. He can’t.

 

“Have you told anybody before now?” she asks. “Anyone at all?”

 

Will’s eyes dart up to hers, but he can’t hold her gaze, not at that question. He looks back down to their hands as he shakes his head. “No,” he says so quietly it’s barely a whisper. “I just need to figure out how to be stronger. It’s my problem. I didn’t want to bother anybody else with it. You all deal with so much already.”

 

“Oh my God, Will,” Amelia says, her voice breaking as it strains. His eyes fly back up to hers as she grabs his hand like she’s terrified he’ll pull it back. “Honey, everyone needs help sometimes. This is too much.”

 

It was inevitable, but that doesn’t stop his heart from falling. “For you?”

 

“No, Will. God, it’s too much for _you_.”

 

Amelia bites her lip hard enough to dent it before she moves to join him against the wall. Her shoulder presses to his and she tentatively reaches up to stroke his cheek. She barely grazes him, but the second she does, a shudder of relief wracks his body. He lets out a harsh exhale and leans into her gentle touch.

 

He’d needed this. He hadn’t even known how much he needed it, but he did. The caring touch of someone he loves when he’s at his very worst, when she sees every bit of it and doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t deserve it, but he aches for it all the same.

 

“You can’t do this alone, my love,” she tells him. “And you don’t have to. You have so many people who love you. We’ll all help you, but you have to stop hiding it.”

 

That would make sense to him if their positions were reversed. Even at his lowest, he knows that.

 

“I’m supposed to be stronger,” he gulps out. Amelia cups his face and presses her lips to his forehead in a flurry of kisses that seem to try and chase his thoughts away. He chokes out a sob. “I’m supposed to be better.”

 

“I love you,” she breathes out against his skin. “I love you and you’re wrong.”

 

He doesn’t believe her, but he also needs to hear it. Even if he wants to tell her how wrong she is, the words fill a hole in his chest that he didn’t realize was so empty. With a low moan, Will falls into her. Guilt swamps him about dragging her into his mess, but he’s so weak right now and she seems so strong.

 

For once, he lets himself lean on someone. And, for a blissful second, the weight he always carries falls away.

 

“Do you love me any less because someone tried to choke me to death?” Amelia asks.

 

“What?” Will recoils, looking at her in horror. “Of course not.” Her eyebrows go up in a silent question and it takes his muddled brain too long to piece together what she’s saying. He slowly shakes his head. “It’s not the same.”

 

“I can’t wear anything around my neck,” she reminds him. She takes his hand in hers and runs his fingers down the column of her own throat. “I dream about it sometimes, too. Not like this, but…”

 

“But you put yourself back together,” he tells her. She dips her head, shaking it as her fingers settle around his wrist. He cups the back of her neck with a gritted, “No, you did. You’re stronger after everything that happened to you.”

 

“Will, I know you can’t see this,” she says, meeting his gaze again. “But so are you.”

 

He sighs with a near-silent, “No,” as he falls back against the wall, shaking his head like maybe he can shake the very idea off. But Amelia’s stubborn and she digs her heels in.

 

“You’ve fought alone for so long,” she says. “That’s got to be draining. I can see why it feels like weakness, but it’s not.”

 

“Amelia…”

 

She smiles, cupping his cheek.

 

“I was drawn to the boy I met at 20 because of how he made me feel when he looked at me,” Amelia tells him. “I liked him at 22 because of how much he loved his family. At 25, I loved the way he held me while we danced and made the whole world seem like more fun, like maybe there was more to life than I was letting myself experience. By 26, I loved the way that talking to him became the best part of my day, even if I felt lost the rest of the time. At 27 I loved the way he let himself be vulnerable with me. I was terrified of changing my life, but I’d have run away with him if he hadn’t been baited into throwing that punch. And days away from 29, he rightly walked away from me on the side of a snowy road. It felt more like dying than the car crash had. But none of that holds a candle to _now_ , Will. Because now I know what it’s like to let myself be madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with you, to live with it and feel it every day. We’re so much _more_ than we were. And I’m… I’m so much more than I ever thought I could be because of you.”

 

Will’s lips tremble and he presses them into a thin line, closing his eyes as he turns away. She doesn’t let him get far, urging him to turn back to her. She leans in closer, her warmth working to seep into his bones as she kisses his temple, like she’s trying to will her words to sink beneath his skin and take root.

 

“You didn’t die in that museum,” she promises. “You fought to _live_. You fought to save your friend and won. It scarred you, but that’s just part of who you are now. You’re still _you_ , Will. And that man is someone I’ve fallen more and more in love with every day. You’re not weak because you need people. You’re the man I am in love with and will be for the rest of my life. And, I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

Something in him breaks at the idea that maybe she wants him just the way he is. It does nothing to wash away the shame of the moment, but it does give him something to cling to as the tears finally fall and he curls into her, letting her anchor him.

 

“I love you so damn much,” he breathes, brushing his hands over her. He doesn’t know what he wants, he just knows he needs to touch her, to feel her solid presence under his fingertips. But he can’t settle. Her neck, her shoulders, her waist, no single place will do. He touches every part of her that he can, rooting himself in how very real she feels.

 

“I love you just as much,” Amelia replies. She shakes her head with a strained exhale. “I just wish you believed that. I wish you knew you were worth it.”

 

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not sure there’s anything he _could_ say that she’d want to hear. But kissing her comes as naturally as breathing, and through that simple touch he feels how much he means to her. It’s in the way her lips press back against his and her hands ghost over his skin. Part of him still can’t fathom it, but another part of him falls into her as easily as anything he’s ever done. He soaks her in, letting her comfort seep into his skin to push away the chill that emanates from his bones.

 

“Let’s go back to bed, my love,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair before kissing a tear track on his cheek. “Come lie with me.”

 

Will finds himself nodding and letting her pull him up along with her when she stands. Exhaustion saps his energy, draining him of the ability to make even the simplest of choices. For tonight, where she leads, he’ll follow.

 

She tugs him by his fingers back to the bed, picking the sheets up off the floor as she goes.

 

Amelia waves at the mattress. “Will you sit?”

 

He does without hesitation, watching her to see what she’ll do next. She tosses the sheet at the foot of the bed before nudging his legs open to stand between them. When she pushes her fingers through his still-damp hair, he sighs. The soft sound quickly morphs into a groan as she runs both hands down the length of his neck to his shoulders and digs her fingers into the painfully hard muscles bunched there. Will tenses under the mild assault, but he tilts forward in invitation until his forehead rests against her belly, just beneath her bare breasts. His hands float up to her hips as she rubs her thumbs against the curve where his neck meets his shoulders.

 

“Oh, Will…” she whispers when she discovers just how tense he is.

 

Will swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut. He always gets like this after a bad nightmare. He coils up, every inch of him ready to either run or fight. It’d been exceptionally painful when he’d been recovering from being impaled. But it’s bad now, too. He’s never had anything beyond a heat pad and a few glasses of whisky to loosen him up. He’s never had _this._ And, God, even though some whisky sounds damned good about now, he thinks Amelia’s hands might be even better. At least for the moment.

 

“Hurts,” he mumbles, his lids growing heavy. She immediately pulls back and his shoulders slouch under her hands. He doesn’t want her to stop.

 

“I know,” Amelia says, bending down to kiss the top of his head. He wonders what she’s responding to. She leans into him, trailing her hands down his back, holding on like maybe she doesn’t want to let him go. “Stay still, okay?”

 

The sudden absence of her touch sends a shock of panic through Will. His eyes fly open and his head snaps up, a stab of fear making him wonder if he’s only imagined her, if he’s really been alone the entire time. But she’s just a few steps away, grabbing a bottle of lotion from the side of his dresser where she’s piled her things. He tries to control his breathing, but his heart only starts to calm when she turns back to him.

 

He needs her. Desire strikes him bone-deep, almost scary in its intensity. He needs her and he has no idea how long she’ll stay or how he’ll manage when she leaves. Letting himself lean on her is so natural, but it only means he’ll get used to her, that he’ll start to rely on her.

 

Will’s hands start shaking again.

 

“I’m right here,” Amelia says, as if reading his thoughts. She climbs onto the bed and sits behind him, scooting to bracket his hips between her thighs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

 

He needs to see her. He almost spins around, but Will bites his tongue at the ridiculous thought instead. She’s still touching him. And if he’s with her, then he’s not bleeding out on the cold marble floor. That logic, more than anything, makes sense to him.

 

“Relax, my love,” she urges. The scent of her lotion grounds him even more as she dispenses some into her hands. She kisses him right behind his ear and some of the tension drains away at the press of her lips.

 

But it’s nothing compared to when she sets her hands against his shoulders and digs her thumbs into the knot of muscle coiled there.

 

“Oh _God_ ,” Will moans, dropping his head forward. She works out some of the worst aches, somehow finding the sorest, most tender spots and chasing the pain away. His hands settle against her knees and he holds on as she coaxes his body to uncoil.

 

She doesn’t stop with his shoulders. He never realized how sore he gets everywhere until she starts working her way down his spine. She fans out after a moment before shifting her focus to rub his biceps. He whimpers, melting under her hands, letting his head drop back against her shoulder and turning his face toward her.

 

He means to kiss her, to try and breathe some kind of understanding about how much this means to him into her lips. But he gets distracted by the reflection of them in the mirror above his dresser. More specifically, by the look on her face when she doesn’t realize he’s watching her.

 

The affection and concern shining from her is blinding. She’s all concentration as she moves her ministrations down his flanks, to his hips, to his thighs. That look on her face lodges his next breath somewhere in his throat. She immediately picks up on the tiny change, and he can’t help but marvel at that, at how tuned into him she seems to be. Amelia looks up, her eyes catching his in the mirror. Her hands still against his thighs, and he lets go of one of her knees to settle his hand over hers, linking their fingers together.

 

“How can you put up with me like this?” he asks.

 

Sorrow shoots through her eyes and his heart clenches, hating the sight of it.

 

“It’s not putting up with anything,” Amelia replies. “I’d love you with any kind of injury, Will Queen. Even the kind that lives inside your head and you try to hide from everyone else. Nothing’s going to change that.”

 

Will closes his eyes and turns his face into hers, nuzzling her nose with his. Closeness and a quiet sense of intimacy wraps around them. “Can I hold you?” he asks. “I just need… I need to hold you for a bit.”

 

“I’d like that a lot,” Amelia tells him. He can hear the smile in her voice. “As long as I get to hold you right back.”

 

He turns in her arms and kisses her before lying down, pulling her along with him. She pauses long enough to set her lotion on the floor before following him, scooting herself so they’re nose-to-nose on their sides facing each other. They both run their hands along each other’s bodies with one hand, lacing their fingers together with the other. Will traces the line of her spine before spreading his hand wide to pull her closer as she strokes the edge of his jaw with the side of her thumb.

 

“I wanna be better for you,” he confesses, a whisper of shame on the cusp of his words.

 

“I want you to be better for _you_ ,” she replies. “All I need you to be for me is yourself.”

 

He squeezes his eyes shut on a heavy sigh, turning to kiss her palm instead of replying. She sees right through it, and he doesn’t have to be looking at her to know she’s shaking her head at him. But there’s nothing left to say. She strokes his early-morning beard to pull his eyes back to hers before leaning in and searing her lips against his. The kiss is long and slow, a heated release of her feelings.

 

She stretches one of her legs over his hip, nudging him closer with her heel.

 

“I love you,” Amelia breathes between his parted lips, her hand drifting down to curl over his shoulder.

 

Her warmth encompasses him completely, and he’s helpless against it. Against her. All he wants to do is hold onto this, to linger in this space where her affection pours over him so intensely that he starts to believe it’ll last. She showers him in love, pressing her words into his skin with her lips, writing poems of adoration with her fingertips across his body.

 

“Amelia…”

 

“I want to show you,” she says, her voice breaking. “I need you to feel how much I love you. I don’t have the words to convince you, but maybe… Maybe I can make you see it.”

 

Will opens his mouth, the ready words, _‘I already know,’_ on his tongue. But they dissolve unspoken against his lips. She’s right. He wishes it weren’t true, but he also can’t imagine how anyone could love him after seeing how broken he really is. And, the idea that she might terrifies him. The reality that she’s hurting because of his denial is even worse, though. And yet, the idea of sharing this part of himself… Fear strangles him. Because it would mean being a burden to her. She might not see it like that right away, but what about later? What about when all her soothing and all her love still can’t fix him?

 

He’s watched her walk away too many times to be able to handle it again.

 

“Let me love you, Will?” she asks. “Just as you are. Just like this.”

 

When he’s all jagged, broken edges, so fragile that one word could blow him to pieces?

 

“Please,” Amelia whispers.

 

He wants to put on his usual front, to tell her all the right things, but the words just don’t come.

 

With a hitched breath, Will nods. He searches her eyes, but all he sees is relief at his answer.

 

Amelia shifts slightly, pulling her leg back just enough to tug her underwear off. He watches her as she leaves his arms to pull his boxers down as well. She reaches over him to his nightstand to grab a condom from the drawer before settling in his arms again. She makes no move to put it on him yet, though. Her leg hitches back over his hip as she rubs the tip of her nose against his.

 

“I should’ve been here all along,” she tells him, pressing a hand to his chest.

 

“Here?” Will repeats, settling his hand over hers. He shifts it so her palm is directly over his heart. “Amelia, you always were.”

 

She nods, giving him a soft smile before pulling her hand away and grabbing his fingers. She pulls them to her lips to kiss them. It’s sweet and soft. He finds himself smiling at the sight of her eyes slipping shut with his fingers to her lips. But that’s nothing at all compared to when she opens them again, finding his gaze.

 

Moving almost in slow motion, she presses his hand to her heart.

 

Silence fills the room. She doesn’t breathe a word. The look on her face begs him to understand what she’s showing him. His heart skips a beat. And her quickening breath under his hand belies how very vulnerable she feels in this moment.

 

“Yeah,” Will says hoarsely, pausing to lick his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Relief races across her face and he leans in to kiss her as she wraps herself around him. Every part of her pulls him in. There’s a unity in this moment that goes beyond anything physical. He can’t define it, can’t quantify it. This is him and her, naked in every possible way, intertwined together by choice. She clings to him like she never wants to let go.

 

God help him, in this moment he believes her.

 

He was wrong all those years ago, he realizes. Being with the right person doesn’t mean he can’t picture his life without her. It means he can picture it with painful clarity and hopes he never has to live it.

 

“I need you,” he breathes.

 

“I need you, too.” Amelia stokes her thumb over his shoulder blade. “I wish…”

 

She trails off and he nudges her nose with his to grab her attention. “You wish what?”

 

Amelia bites her lip, eyes darting to his mouth before looking back at him. “I wish we didn’t have to use the condom,” she admits.

 

Will’s jaw drops. He’s never gone bare in his life. He’s never even considered it. But the idea of being with Amelia like that is one that both scares the hell out of him and makes his heart race with wild excitement.

 

“I know we can’t,” Amelia amends. A nervous laugh falls out of her, even as she raises her eyebrows in an almost hopeful lilt that he’s pretty sure is her asking him to contradict her. He doesn’t. “It’s just… I’d like to take you inside me without anything between us. It sounds…”

 

“Intimate.”

 

“Yeah,” she whispers, the word ghosting over his lips.

 

He slips his hand into her hair, the soft strands tangling in his fingers. He cups the back of her head until she meets his eyes again. “Not yet,” he says.

 

Disappointment flashes in her eyes, but she still nods like she understands. She doesn’t, though. _‘Not yet’_ is light years beyond anything he’d have said to any other woman who suggested the idea. He’s a bastard borne of youthful indiscretion and fleeting passions. He’s been careful about sex his entire life. Maybe some of that wasn’t just to avoid an unintentional pregnancy. Maybe some of it was to avoid another layer of emotional intimacy. Maybe the idea that neither of those ideas worry him quite so much when it comes to Amelia is terrifying on a completely new level.

 

“Okay,” she says, pausing to kiss him again. “I’ll take you any way I can have you, Will Queen.”

 

“I’m all yours, Amelia Prescott,” he replies.

 

It earns him a quiet smile as she tears open the condom and pulls back so she can roll it down his length. His eyes close as her fingers slip over his sensitive flesh. His nerve-endings are in overdrive in a completely different way now compared to when he was curled up in the corner with his mind miles and years away.

 

She doesn’t let him go once he’s sheathed. Amelia wraps one leg back over his hip and inches the other beneath him, using her hand to guide him to her entrance with them still side-by-side, facing each other.

 

Will moans when she sinks onto him. Her warmth encases him completely and his eyes slip shut of their own volition. But he can’t keep them closed, not with her big blue eyes right there, showing him everything she’s feeling. Not with her hand stroking down his back, somehow pulling him into her even deeper.

 

He’s never been with anyone like this before. The gentle intensity sets his heart racing. It’s about connection, he realizes. Unity. About being as close and intimate as they possibly can. That feeling wraps around them as they start to rock together, their hands running over each other’s bodies, their eyes locked together in a way he’s never experienced.

 

It’s more than sex. It’s more than words.

 

If she’d wanted to prove her feelings for him, she’s doing a damn good job of it.

 

Her legs hitch up higher, her breath catching with a sharp gasp as he sinks deeper inside her. But the only thing he can focus on is her face, the way her cheeks flush and her eyelashes flutter as she tries to hold his gaze. He runs his thumb across her lip before leaning in and kissing her. It’s slow and quiet. He nibbles at her lower lip as he slides his hand down the length of her back.

 

There’s so much _contact_ between them. So much of her touches him. It feels like she can’t get enough, like she needs him as much as he needs her. And _oh_ , he could get drunk on that feeling.

 

“Love you,” he murmurs against her lips. Her nipples pebble at his words, the sensitive points brushing over his chest. The idea of Amelia - of _anyone_ \- having that kind of reaction to him based on words alone, it’s more than he’s thought he could ever have. “I love you so much, Amelia. God, honey…”

 

She nods, her hair brushing against his cheek. The movement itself is a little frantic, a little needy. But it’s the tightness in her brow and the fullness of her pupils that tell him she’s already close. Her heel digs into the flesh of his ass and she angles her hips so her pelvis goes flat against his as she moves in small thrusts.

 

Everything about her is intoxicating, but nothing so much as the look on her face when he brushes her hair back from her face and watches her watching him as she bites her lip hard enough that it turns white under the pressure.

 

With a startled cry, Amelia’s jaw drops and her pupils nearly eclipse the blue of her eyes as they roll back into her head. Her motions go jerky, losing all rhythm and she gasps out his name, over and over. His hands shake with desire and a bone-deep need to hold onto this moment for as long as he can, but he cups her face and kisses her breathless anyhow. And, in spite of himself, it’s only moments before he’s right there with her, cresting and breaking as she scrapes her nails up the length of his spine, whispering her love into his shoulder.

 

It takes a long while for him to come back to himself.

 

When he finally does, it’s with the roar of his own pulse in his ears and a low murmur of indistinct words from Amelia, her hands shaking, and a cooling sheen of sweat covering his body. But, in spite of the similarities, this is the antithesis to where he’d been nearly an hour ago.

 

There’s tears in her eyes when his vision clears. It doesn’t surprise him, nor does the fact that there are some in his, too. There’s a power in this. In them. Maybe he’d underestimated that. Maybe he hadn’t understood it at all.

 

But there’s no denying it now.

 

He has no idea if it’s comfort or fear that fills him.

 

“Thank you,” Amelia whispers, stroking a lock of damp hair off his brow.

 

Will raises an eyebrow and cracks a grin. “That good?”

 

She rolls her eyes before giving him a heavy look. “Yes,” she says. Her voice dares him to contradict her. “We are. Thank you for letting me show that to you. For letting me be there for you. That means… It means everything to me, Will. _You_ mean everything to me.”

 

“You…” He swallows hard. “You mean everything to me, too.”

 

Amelia smiles before slowly easing off him. He doesn’t bother hiding his grimace when he leaves her warmth, but she doesn’t go far. She removes the condom and ties it off, tossing it into the trash next to the bed before grabbing the comforter and pulling it over them both. It’s a big bed, but they don’t use much of it. They wind up nose-to-nose again, wrapped around each other. And, for the first time since he started having these damned nightmares, he feels the pull of sleep tugging him back down as her fingers stroke his hair.

 

“I love you,” is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep in the comfort of her arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably don't read the first part of this in public... 
> 
> P.S. If it takes me longer than usual to reply to comments (or I'm more brief in my reply) please know I read all of them and love all of your support. I'm pretty focused on my original work right now and it's extremely time and energy consuming. <3

 

Amelia wakes to the smell of coffee and the gentle brush of fingers against her cheek.

 

With bleary eyes and a foggy head, she blinks away the remnants of her slumber. The last thing she remembers is lying on her side watching Will sleep, wishing she had a way to let him feel as at peace all the time as he seems to be when he caves and lets himself lean on her. She isn’t sure what time it’d been when she’d finally succumbed to sleep, but it had been late. The driving need to watch over him had kept her awake, but she’d lost that battle at some point. And, now she wakes to a soft-faced Will crouching next to the bed.

 

He looks _happy_. That’s the first conscious thought in her head and with it comes relief.

 

With a throaty hum, Amelia presses her hand to his, trapping it against her cheek. She blinks tiredly at his affectionately amused expression as the world starts to sharpen around her.

 

“Morning, beautiful,” Will greets.

 

“Morning,” she croaks, breaking into a wide yawn halfway through the word. He chuckles, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone. “What time is it?”

 

“Almost nine.”

 

Groaning, Amelia rubs at her eyes with her knuckles and stretches her neck before scooting up into a sitting position. She opens her mouth to talk, but another yawn wrenches free before she manages, “That’s so late.”

 

Will moves to sit on the bed next to her. “Seems like maybe you needed it.”

 

After last night, he means. Emotions can be exhausting, but paired with an actual lack of sleep? That’s even more draining. She wonders if he has any idea how long she stayed up just watching him.

 

She doubts it.

 

“I hope you slept a little, too,” she says, running her fingers down the length of his forefinger.

 

“Yeah, I did.” He offers her a small, authentic smile, the kind that makes her heart flip in her chest and miss a beat. So much about Will is boisterous and charismatic. It’s insanely attractive how he uses that part of himself to draw people to him, making everyone smile and laugh. But that’s nothing compared to him when he’s being as earnest as he is right now. The combination is nearly lethal. “I got up about a half an hour ago,” Will tells her. “Thought I’d make breakfast.”

 

“Coffee?” she asks, falling into another yawn that has her arching her back for the full effect. When she only gets silence back, she says, “I mean, I can smell it, so obviously there’s coffee, but…”

 

She opens her eyes to find him staring blankly at her bare chest.

 

Amelia bites her bottom lip, a pleased flush rushing across the surface of her skin. The open interest and hunger in his eyes takes her breath away. She’s not sure she’ll ever get used to it.

 

She takes a deep breath, purposefully making her breasts rise and fall under his gaze.

 

“Huh?” he manages. The sound fades away when she stretches her arms over her head.

 

“Coffee?” she repeats with a teasing smile.

 

Will tears his eyes back up to her face. “I can think of a much better way to wake you up.”

 

“More likely to wear me out and put me back to sleep, you mean,” she replies with a laugh, pointing her toes before working her foot over the curve of his thigh.

 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, honey.”

 

“Well then,” Amelia says, her voice going husky. He groans as she licks her lips. “Come back to bed, my love.” The split second of indecision that crosses his face wakes her up quicker than anything else could. “You have plans this morning,” she realizes.

 

“I don’t have to be anywhere for a solid forty-five minutes,” Will says, sliding a hand up her thigh, shifting the sheets to expose her hip. “Bet I can make it worth your while with plenty of time to spare.”

 

“You’re always worth my while.”

 

His eyes heat. “Breakfast will keep,” Will rasps, fixing her with a single-minded gaze as he crawls on top of her. “I want to bury myself inside you until you’re screaming my name.”

 

The carnal words make her breath catch, a wash of tingles crashing through her from head to toe.

 

“Take me, then,” she whispers, spreading her legs so the sheet isn’t hiding anything anymore. “Fuck me until my voice breaks, Will.”

 

A predatory spark lights his eyes and her heartbeat jumps to life as she watches the fire of his desire for her grow. She wants nothing more than to be completely consumed.

 

“C’mere,” he orders, grabbing her hips and tugging her down the mattress. She’s completely naked compared to his pajama bottoms and it fans the need coiling deep in her core as the position spreads her wide open for him. For just a second he soaks in the sight of her body. A flicker of softness plays over his face, but it’s gone in an instant. Eyes never leaving hers, he licks his thumb and reaches down to stroke from her clit to her entrance.

 

Amelia gasps, angling her hips for more. “ _Will_.”

 

“Don’t move,” Will tells her in a guttural voice that sends shivers down her spine.

 

He shoves his pants down, freeing his hardening cock. The tip already glistens with moisture. Her mouth waters at the thought of him sliding it between her lips and a rush of arousal hits her at the mental image of how he’d pant and fight the urge to grip her hair as she swallows his release. _Would_ he fight it now, she wonders? Or would he hold on as he hits the back of her throat? Just the idea has her moaning and gripping the headboard to keep herself from reaching for him.

 

“Keep holding onto that,” he says, eyeing the way her body lengthens against the mattress. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

 

“I need you inside me,” Amelia moans, wiggling a little, her nails digging into the wood.

 

He grunts, blindly reaching for the condoms in the nightstand. It’s only when he gets one in-hand that a moment of hesitation has him pausing. He glances at the package before looking at her. Amelia’s heart stutters to a stop. God, she wishes he wouldn’t use it. Every bit of her wants to be taken, filled by him, to know he’s bare inside her. But she bites her tongue, knowing she can’t make that choice for him. He knows what she wants…

 

The smallest pang of disappointment hits her when he grimaces and tears the foil open. But it only lasts a moment because then he’s rolling the latex down his length and settling himself between her thighs.

 

Will’s gaze nails her in place as he slides into her in one, strong thrust.

 

She lets loose a wild keen and he grabs her hips, yanking her more fully against him as he sets up a frenzied pace. She all but chokes on air as he fills her over and over, harder, faster, like he can’t get deep enough, can’t slam into her hard enough. Will bites his lip as he watches her before his lips slant over hers with a possessiveness that leaves her reeling. She whines loudly as he nips and sucks at her bottom lip.

 

When he pulls back, his hips faltering, she lets out a desperate, “ _Will_ …”

 

“Lift your ass up,” he orders, his movements stopping as he grabs a pillow. She does as he says and he slides it underneath her. The angle lets him go deeper and he grunts in satisfaction as he starts moving with her again.

 

“Yes,” she hisses, pushing her toes to a point against the mattress. A second later, she feels his hands against the back of her thighs, pushing them up until her knees press into her chest. “ _Yes.”_

 

“Fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into her without restraint.

 

Amelia’s head spins, overwhelmed by the passion of being taken so completely by someone. Her nails carve grooves into the headboard and it’s only when she hears echoes of her own voice that she realizes she’s chanting his name. His eyes are glazed with lust as he stares at her chest and she chokes out a gasp when he leans down to lick at one of her nipples. That’s nothing compared to when he tugs at it with his teeth.

 

 _“Oh fuck, Will_ ,” she gasps as he works a stinging line up to her neck. “Will… Will.”

 

“That’s right,” he growls into her ear, his teeth biting at her lobe. A full body shudder hits her and she cries out, letting go of the headboard to grip his hair instead. “Fuck, I’m so deep in you right now. You’re mine and I’m not letting you go.”

 

“Never,” she moans, tightening her hold on his hair. “Mine… mine… Will, oh _God._ ”

 

He grunts and fixes his lips just beneath her ear, sucking on her skin as he pumps into her hard enough that the bed squeaks and the headboard slams into the wall.

 

All she can do is hold on.

 

His name is the only thing on her lips, a prayer and a plea rolled into one. Her entire body tingles with a fast-building energy desperate for release. All of it overwhelms her. _He_ overwhelms her. And it’s incredible.

 

She claws at his back, making sounds she’s never heard as all of it builds to a fever pitch.

 

“Fuck,” he murmurs against her throat. The wet heat of his breath blankets her skin and he hisses when her nails rake against his back. It spurs him on and he slams into her hard enough that she feels his balls slapping her with each increasingly frantic thrust. “Fuck, Amelia.”

 

Her peak hits without warning. It dominates everything and she fights for leverage, her feet scrambling against his back, her heels climbing upward as a roar of pleasure whips through. A scream of his name rips from her throat and her back arches off the mattress as her vision whites out. A burst of bliss swamps her senses, washing away everything else, carrying her so high she can’t breathe.

 

Awareness comes back slowly. Will is still deep inside her, grunting and gripping her hips hard enough they might bruise as he pumps into her. Her whole body is liquid and it’s easy to pull her knees up. He hits her deeper and the groan he gives her is euphoric. He’s so close, but not quite there. She reaches down to grip his ass, digging her nails in.

 

“Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out.

 

Will latches his lips against the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. He sucks hard, biting and tugging as his motions go jerky and then he lets go. He pulses inside her with deep, bone-jarring thrusts that have her arching into him, igniting a small burst of another orgasm. She clenches around his cock, trying to breathe, to do anything, but all she can do is _feel_.

 

He finally collapses against her.

 

Their pulses slow back to normal, ragged pants for air filling the room. His face stays buried in the crook of her neck, his gasps making her shiver, their sweat mingling.

 

“Oh my God,” she sighs.

 

“You said that already,” Will replies with an amused huff. “More than once.”

 

“That’s not the only thing I did more than once,” Amelia replies, raising an eyebrow at him when he lifts his head to look at her.

 

There’s no mistaking the ridiculous male pride on his face. “Yeah?”

 

“Mmhmm,” she confirms, trailing a finger up his spine. “Never had that happen before.”

 

“ _Never?_ ” he asks.

 

“Never,” she repeats. “It makes sense, though, when you think about it.” Amelia touches her fingers to his face. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

 

Her words linger in the air, more of a confirmation than a statement. They wrap around the couple where they lay tangled together, as closely connected as two people can be, and it’s utterly perfect. The kiss he gives her is the complete opposite of what they just experienced, gentle and slow. It’s the sort she’s used to with him, and it resonates more deeply after sharing their bodies in such an impassioned, frantic way. Every new facet of Will she discovers in their relationship, she loves him more. He’s a million little things and she loves every single one so much that sometimes it surprises her.

 

Amelia gives him a dreamy smile when they part. It’s a look he returns until the clock catches his eye.

 

“Damn,” he mutters.

 

“Low on time?” she asks, stroking his scruff.

 

“Yeah,” Will replies, pulling out of her. She tries not to mourn the loss, but she’s reluctant to have him leave her body. “I need to clean up and get moving. I’m supposed to pick Beth up and spend the day with her.”

 

“Oh.” Amelia tugs the sheet up to cover herself, biting the tip of her tongue to keep herself from offering up the fact that she’s mostly free today, too. If he wanted her there, he’d ask. “Sounds like fun.”

 

Will winks at her as he slides off the bed. “I’ll text you pictures.”

 

“Okay,” she says, forcing a smile.

 

He falters. “She’s… She doesn’t even know I’m seeing someone.”

 

Amelia’s stomach sinks. Why he thought _that_ would make things better… “Um, right. Sure.”

 

“I thought…” Will pauses. “Well, maybe I’ll tell her.”

 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she says, waving it away.

 

“Honey…”

 

“It’s fine, Will. Really. I do get it. This needs to go at your pace.”

 

He sighs and she tries to give him another smile. It almost feels like it works, despite the fact that she averts her eyes to fidget with the corner of the sheet.

 

“I love you, you know,” Will says.

 

“I know,” Amelia replies. “I love you, too. And I’m so grateful that you let me be there for you last night. That meant… It meant a lot to me.”

 

His face tightens, shuttering up. “You helped,” he admits with a tight nod. “I’m glad it’s over.”

 

Amelia furrows her brows. “I don’t… I don’t think that was a one-time thing, Will.”

 

“It was just a nightmare, Amelia,” Will replies, rubbing the tip of his nose with his fingers as he turns away. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Will-”

 

“I need to get moving,” he interrupts. “Don’t wanna be late picking up Bethy.”

 

“Right,” she replies, swallowing past the growing lump in her throat.

 

“Breakfast is on the dresser if you wanna heat it up,” he says, nodding to the plate of food. “There’s more coffee in the kitchen, too. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

 

“Okay,” she agrees.

 

Will turns to leave with a tight smile. Red streaks decorate his back from her nails, but the closeness she’d just felt with him is so far out of reach she almost wonders if she imagined it. She doesn’t move as he shuts the door behind him with a firm thud, or as he turns the water on. The shower door pulling back in a quick, efficient jerk is almost as final as a period on the end of a sentence.

 

Amelia stares at the empty doorway, her heart climbing up her throat. How did they go from hot to cold so fast?

 

She doesn’t move for a long while, just listening to him under the water. As hungry as she should be, the plate of food on the dresser holds no appeal. It’s only when the groaning pipes indicate he’s done that she gets up, slipping on one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties before picking up the uneaten breakfast to take into the kitchen. Neither of them mention the full plate as she kisses him goodbye a few moments later.

 

When he’s gone, Amelia spends a solid five minutes staring at the door before she finally moves. And then, it’s only to nibble on some bacon as she cleans up the kitchen.

 

Her mind races as she moves around. How often does he have nightmares like that? He’s always been a restless sleeper, but she’s never seen anything like what happened last night. She can still feel the fear that’d permeated the air, can still taste his panic as he’d scrambled to get away from whatever he saw in his head. Does it happen a lot? The thought has tears filling her eyes. And having to deal with it all alone?

 

“God, Will,” Amelia whispers to the empty kitchen.

 

She doesn’t know what to do. Her desperation to help last night had almost rivaled his terror. And neither of them had really gotten anywhere with it, had they? He’d finally let her in a tiny bit, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Not like he thought.

 

_“It was just a nightmare, Amelia. It’s not a big deal.”_

 

Biting her tongue, she finishes loading the dishwasher. She can’t help but glance at the top rack. A couple of tumblers sit in the back.

 

She pauses, staring at them for a beat before spinning around and opening the cabinet above the coffeemaker. He doesn’t hide the bottles, which she supposes is a good sign. And it’s an even better sign that the whisky sitting on the top shelf looks like the same bottle she saw last time, with the same amount in it.

 

With a relieved sigh, Amelia closes the cupboard. Kicking the dishwasher shut, she grabs a mug and pours herself a cup of coffee.

 

She needs Maggie, she decides as she heads to get dressed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, you look both thoroughly sexed and incredibly confused.”

 

Amelia stops mid-stride on her way over to where Maggie sits on a park bench. Her best friend makes a face when all Amelia can offer in reply is a mournful look.

 

“I’m guessing the second part is more important right now,” Maggie suggests, patting the bench as she takes a sip from her coffee cup.

 

“Yes,” Amelia agrees with a sigh. “But the first is why I might not be up for much sitting on a hard bench.”

 

Maggie chokes on her coffee. She sputters, devolving into a coughing fit as Amelia chuckles and joins her, leaning next to the bench. Maggie thumps her palm against her chest as she tries to clear her throat, but Deedee rushes off the playground to her mother’s side, worry projecting off of her sweet little face.

 

“Are you okay, Momma?” Deedee asks, tugging on Maggie’s sleeve. “Is the baby okay?”

 

“Fine,” Maggie manages, gasping out the words between sputters.

 

“She laughed and some coffee hit her throat in a funny way,” Amelia explains, crouching down next to Deedee. “She’ll be okay. I promise.”

 

The little girl looks less than convinced, but she mulls it over before giving Amelia a sharp, serious nod. “Maybe we gotta take her home, though,” Deedee suggests, even as she glances at the playground with a sad sigh. Her moroseness fades quickly, resolve taking its place as she looks back at Amelia. “We gotta keep Momma and our baby safe.”

 

The concern on her face is heart-wrenching. Before the attack, she’d have never been this worried. It guts Amelia to see the marks that day has left. The experience changed her, it changed both of them, and there’s no going back. There’s only moving forward, learning to deal with it as they grow.

 

“No,” Maggie replies, her voice still a little strained as she touches her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m perfectly safe, baby, and I want to stay at the park.”

 

Wrinkles furrow Deedee’s forehead. “You’re _sure_?”

 

“How about this?” Amelia offers. “How about I keep an eye on her while you play with your friends? If anything happens, I’ll get you and we can bring her right home.”

 

Deedee purses her lips. “As long as _you’re_ the one watching.”

 

“Very closely,” Amelia says, holding up her hand. “Pinky swear.”

 

“Pinky swear,” Deedee echoes, locking their fingers together. Then, with a firm nod that shouldn’t be coming from someone so young, the little girl turns and runs back to the slide.

 

Maggie sighs. “She worries so much now.”

 

“I know,” Amelia says, moving to sit next to her best friend. She tries to hide her grimace as she settles in, but it’s a little hard when she has to readjust to find a semi-comfortable position.

 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Maggie notes with a burst of laughter. It immediately lightens the mood. “How much sex are you two having?”

 

“Today?” Amelia asks.

 

Maggie’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.”

 

“It’s…” Amelia drapes her arm along the back of the bench and rests her chin against her shoulder. “He’s intense and passionate and _so attentive_ , Mags. I can’t even begin to explain how incredible being with him really is.”

 

“Better than you expected?” Maggie asks.

 

“I had no idea,” Amelia says, shaking her head with a dreamy look. It’s gone a second later as the way they ended their morning nags at the ever-present worries in the back of her mind. “I want this forever, but… I just…”

 

“Just what?” Maggie prods, nudging Amelia’s shoe with her own.

 

“I wish he’d stop holding himself back.” Saying it out loud feels selfish and Amelia swallows hard, shifting again. “I just… I wish he’d trust me more.”

 

Maggie stares at her with an inscrutable look. “He’s always seemed… pretty open to me.”

 

From the outside Amelia can see how it would seem that way. But most things with Will are misdirection, she’s finding. He makes you laugh so you don’t see his sadness. He fucks you into the mattress so he doesn’t have to engage in uncomfortable conversations. And as incredible as the sex was this morning, Amelia wishes she could go back and do things differently. Maybe they could’ve just _talked_ instead.

 

“He’s been through a lot,” Amelia says, chewing on her nail. “ _We’ve_ been through a lot, I guess. Part of him expects me to leave him again. Given our history, I can’t even blame him for it, but it still hurts.”

 

Maggie nods slowly. “He told you that?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia breathes out. “Yeah, he told me that.”

 

“That’s a pretty good sign right there, isn’t it?”

 

“Maybe,” Amelia agrees. She shakes her head, letting it fall back to stare up at the sky. It’s overcast and gray, so she looks back to the playground, her eyes fixing on Deedee where she’s flopped on her belly atop a swing. “Or maybe it’s just another excuse for closing himself off.” When Maggie doesn’t say anything - really, when the air of expectation thickens, filling Amelia’s lungs with concrete - she adds, “I’m not the only one he’s closing himself off from. I think he’s doing it with everyone.”

 

The idea of saying more leaves Amelia feeling vaguely sick and she bites her tongue as the image of Will curled in the corner scared out of his mind last night plays through her mind.

 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Maggie asks. Amelia looks at her. “About anything. I get that there’s something here you don’t feel comfortable sharing, but it’s obvious you need help that I can’t give without knowing a little more.”

 

“His trust is so precious, Mags,” Amelia whispers.

 

“I know. I get that.” Amelia doesn’t volunteer more. Maggie pauses, watching on as she wars with indecision. “You’re okay, right?”

 

“Yes. I’m better than okay,” Amelia replies. “I’m happy and madly in love and everything is beautiful.”

 

“Good,” Maggie says with a brand of patience she absolutely did not have prior to motherhood. “Now, is _he_ okay?”

 

Amelia’s eyes slam shut and she gulps back a knee-jerk response in favor of honesty. “I… I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t think so.” Maggie reaches over and grips Amelia’s hand. It’s the contact paired with her obvious concern that has more spilling out. “I’m so worried about him. I’m so scared that he’s just bottling things up and he won’t deal with _any_ of it until it’s too late. I’m terrified that I love him more than he likes himself.”

 

The words hang in the air, damn near taunting Amelia. It should be easier, right? Getting those thoughts off her chest? So why do they suddenly feel as if they weigh upon her _heavier_?

 

“Maybe you should start from the beginning,” Maggie suggests.

 

“I’m not even sure where that is,” Amelia says, pressing her lips into a thin line as tears blur her vision. She takes a slow breath. “Is it all the times I rejected him? Is it when Moira did? Is it when his mother died or when he threw himself in front of a _crossbow_ to save his best friend? Is it every time he’s lost someone at work that he thinks _maybe_ he could’ve saved? It’s all just… He loves so _fiercely_ , Maggie. He loves everyone in his life except himself. He’d sacrifice himself a hundred times over for any one of us because he thinks that all of us are somehow more worthy than he is. I know it. I _know_ it and I don’t know how to fix it.”

 

“Sweetie, slow down,” Maggie says, squeezing her hand and turning to face her more fully. “Take a breath, okay? Stop and breathe a minute.”

 

The request makes Amelia think back to last night and she nods, pressing her lips to her own shoulder. She shuts her eyes, trying not to cry.

 

She fails.

 

“I think I asked the wrong question,” Maggie says after a moment. “Take a second and tell me when _you_ started to see this.”

 

That’s a harder question, by about a million times. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the thoughts zipping through her head. “Some of it was always there,” Amelia finally says, thinking back over their shared history. “It’s in the way he puts others first. He’s always hidden his pain, too. Except from me.” She bites her lip, thinking back to his aunt’s funeral. “He didn’t use to hide it from me.”

 

“But he does now?”

 

Amelia pinches the bridge of her nose. “He tries to. But we’re together so much. It’s gotten more obvious. And last night…”

 

Maggie waits with the patience of a saint, but Amelia can’t get herself to say any more. Not so directly. She looks back toward where Deedee hangs from the monkey bars.

 

“Does she get nightmares?” Amelia asks, letting the question linger before casting a nervous look at Maggie. “Night terrors, even? Since she… Since it happened?”

 

Understanding fills Maggie’s eyes and she sucks in a quick breath. “She gets nightmares,” her best friend replies. “Therapy has helped.”

 

“Does she ever wake up and not know where she is?” Amelia asks, choking on the words. “Does she think it’s happening again? Like she’s living through it all over? Does… Does it ever seem like maybe that’s happening when she’s awake?”

 

The sympathy on Maggie’s face wallops her as hard as the weight of actually speaking these truths aloud. The guilt of revealing too much slams into her and she rolls her lips together tightly, blinking as tears burn her eyes.

 

“I just… I want to help him,” she whispers.

 

Maggie pulls her close and Amelia crumbles. Her sobs get muffled in her best friend’s shoulder as she digs her face into her soft sweater. For a moment she feels like a child again as she relies on her friend, lets her carry some of the burden, if just a little. But it does nothing to dissipate the fear living inside her.

 

“I love him, Mags,” Amelia mutters on a broken cry. “I love him and he thinks he died years ago because he keeps going through it over and over again. He barely talks about it. He won’t deal with it. And I’m so _scared_ for him.”

 

Maggie smooths her hand down Amelia’s hair. “He’s not getting any help?”

 

Amelia pulls back a little and shakes her head with a sniffle. Maggie’s already handing over a baby wipe from her ever-present diaper bag. Amelia cracks out a broken laugh and takes it with a grateful nod. She rubs it against her cheeks and presses it to her eyelids, letting the cooling sensation settle her a little before wiping her nose. “I don’t think he’s willing to admit he _needs_ help,” she confides.

 

“Does his family know?”

 

“No,” Amelia replies immediately with confidence. “Not with any certainty, anyhow. No, there’s no way. His friends can’t either, because most of them work with him and they’d never let him out on a truck knowing that sometimes… Sometimes he…”

 

“He has flashbacks,” Maggie fills in.

 

Amelia nods.

 

“You know what this is, right?”

 

“I know,” Amelia whispers.

 

“Does he?”

 

“I don’t think so. Maybe somewhere inside he does, but he’d never admit it to himself.”

 

“Sweetie, he has PTSD,” Maggie says. “It’s not going to go away. He needs help. And it can’t just be _you_.”

 

“I know,” Amelia says, or she tries to. The words come out in a strangled sigh. “I know, but he’s not going to face it. I don’t know what to do. I want to help him, but I’m afraid he doesn’t think he’s worth it. I’m afraid he thinks he’s too far gone to be helped. And I’m afraid that pushing him to deal with it will only mean he pushes me away.”

 

“He might,” Maggie tells her. The hurt that slices through Amelia takes her breath away, but Maggie doesn’t back off. “But I know you, Amelia. He can push as hard as he wants. You won’t go anywhere.”

 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, I won’t.”

 

“You can’t do this for him,” Maggie counsels. “Not any more than I can deal with Deedee’s trauma for her. I know you wish you could, just like I do. But it doesn’t work like that. You can support him through it, but he’s got work he needs to do. And the very first step is him admitting to _himself_ what’s going on.”

 

“How do I get him to do that?” Amelia asks in a small voice.

 

“I don’t know. Getting Dee to a therapist is easy. I’m her mom and she’s a toddler. I just tell her we’re going to a special doctor and we go. I have no idea how to get a full grown man with a lifetime of trauma he’s trying to hide to do the same thing. I really don’t.”

 

Amelia’s grateful for the honesty, but her heart still drops.

 

“How about this?” Maggie says, turning to face Amelia more fully. “How about I talk to Deedee’s therapist and ask for suggestions? Even a recommendation for someone he can talk to? Or someone _you_ can talk to? Because, sweetie, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from going through this with Dee, it’s that no one fights these battles alone. It’s gonna impact you, too. It’ll impact everyone who cares about him.”

 

“Maybe that’s why he’s hiding,” Amelia says, the pieces clicking into place. “He can’t stand the idea of being a burden. He wants everyone to be able to rely on him, but he doesn’t like it when other people have to be there for him. He’d rather be the person he thinks everyone wants him to be. If he showed them all the ways he’s imperfect, I think he worries they’d decide he’s not worth it. I think he worries _I’d_ decide that.”

 

“Guess you’ll just have to show him otherwise.”

 

“Yeah,” she says, her mind reeling back to the night before, to how he’d shut his eyes against her words. _‘I want you to be better for you. All you need to be for me is yourself.’_ She doesn’t know how to make him believe that, but she’s certain she needs to, almost as much as she’s certain he will do everything to see the exact opposite. “Yeah,” Amelia repeats. “I guess I will.”

 

“Are you okay?” Maggie asks.

 

“No,” Amelia says with a choked laugh as she looks at her friend. “But I will be.”

 

“You wanna spend the day with us? We can curl up in front of the TV and have dinner together later. Jer can be on kiddo duty.”

 

“No. Thank you, but I think need a little time alone.”

 

“You sure? It’s gonna be a great dinner.”

 

Amelia shoots her a skeptical look. “Is Jer the one cooking?”

 

“ _Ha_. No.” Maggie snorts. “We’re having my current favorite. Popcorn with rocky road ice cream.”

 

Amelia huffs out a laugh as she scrunches up her face. “Pass, Maggie.”

 

“Hey, I’m in my second trimester, you know,” Maggie protests, patting her ever-growing baby bump. “That is fine cuisine as far as I’m concerned.”

 

“Well, you can have my share,” Amelia announces.

 

“Oh, I definitely will.”

 

It’s a testament to their friendship that Amelia manages a laugh after the conversation they just shared. Amelia squeezes her hand with a soft, “Thank you, Maggie.”

 

“I’ve got your back,” Maggie tells her. “Anything you need. Always. All you have to do is ask. Sometimes you don’t even have to do that. And, in that spirit, I feel obligated to tell you that makeup is doing nothing to hide the massive hickey on your neck.”

 

“Oh my God,” Amelia murmurs, flushing as her free hand flies to the mark. There’s no embarrassment, though, even if she feels like she’s been rocketed back to high school. “You should see the nail marks down his back.”

 

“Back?” Maggie asks, eyes going comically wide. “Or backside?”

 

“Yes,” Amelia replies with a filthy smile.

 

“That’s my girl.” Maggie nods before turning a little more somber. “I’ll call you Tuesday, okay? After Dee’s appointment. But you can call me anytime at all.”

 

“I know,” Amelia says, leaning over to kiss her friend’s cheek. “Love you.”

 

“Ditto,” Maggie replies. “And take care of yourself, too. Not just him.”

 

Lips quirking in a quiet smile, Amelia nods and squeezes Maggie’s fingers before standing to find Deedee to bid her goodbye. These days, the toddler is incredibly aware of where all her loved ones are at all times and she immediately sees Amelia heading her way. While it’s wonderful to be considered one of Deedee’s _people_ , it’s still beyond sad to realize how much she’s changed thanks to what she went through.

 

Amelia wonders if she’s changed more than she thinks, too.

 

Maybe it’s just harder to see when it’s inside you.

 

The walk home is exactly what she needs. The air is crisp and there’s no rain, despite the overcast sky. Her thoughts wander as she works through everything. Maybe she’s worrying more than she should, she thinks. Maybe she can talk to Will about all of this and it’ll be okay. Maybe all she needs is to be there every day to prove to him that she won’t leave.

 

Maybe he’ll believe her faster than she thinks.

 

She’s about halfway home when her phone buzzes.

 

Amelia pauses to pull it out and when she sees what waits for her, she cracks up. It’s a selfie of Bethany hanging over Will’s shoulder and sticking her tongue out at the camera. Two more shots follow in quick succession. The first has Beth caught mid-laugh as her brother gives her a piggyback ride. The second is blurry, like the phone nearly got dropped because Will’s tickling his sister. But, blurry or not, their happiness shines through.

 

_WQ: sry abt this morning. we should’ve talked more. i got carried away. in my defense have u seen u naked?_

 

Amelia bites her lip as she stares at the text. Tapping her finger against the edge of her phone, she leans against a storefront.

 

_AP: I’m not complaining about the sex this morning. I wouldn’t even if I had a voice left after how you got me screaming._

 

He takes a moment to reply. The little dots indicating he’s typing appear and disappear several times.

 

_WQ: i may have underestimated txting u abt sex while hanging out w/ beth. she keeps trying 2 steal my phone._

 

 _AP: Delete the messages, then_.

 

 _WQ: k but i’m warning u, she’s rly excited that i have a girlfriend. RLY excited_.

 

So he had told her. Amelia’s heart skips a beat. And she isn’t just dubbed _‘someone he’s seeing.’_ She stares at the screen, anxiously waiting for more. It takes a moment, but when her phone buzzes again, she’s not disappointed.

 

A video pops up on her screen. Amelia holds her breath and hits play immediately. Beth’s bright-eyed grin fills the screen.

 

“Hell- _o,_  there!” the ten-year-old greets, waggling her fingers at the screen. Her entire face fills the screen with a contagious joy that has Amelia smiling in response. They’re inside some kind of store, judging by the random flashes of fluorescent lights in the background. “I’m Bethany. I’d be mad we haven’t met, but we both know whose fault _that_ is.”

 

“Hey!” Will protests in the background.

 

“My brother can be a little protective of me,” Beth whispers to the phone as she glances to the side.

 

“I gave you the phone, didn’t I?” Will asks offscreen.

 

“Uh huh, because I have a _song_.”

 

Will’s sigh is audible. “Beth.”

 

“ _Ahem_!” Bethany’s grin grows. “Will and his girlfriend, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-”

 

Amelia laughs.

 

“Oh my God, are you five?” Will asks, sounding a little less put-out than his words would make him seem. The phone jerks like he makes a move to grab it, but Beth yanks it out of his reach.

 

“Wait!” She looks off to the side. “What’s her name?”

 

“Amelia,” Will replies. The word lingers on his tongue in a way that makes Amelia shiver.

 

Beth scrunches up her face. “Do you… Do you always _say_ it like that?”

 

“I think I want my phone back now.”

 

“No!” Beth protests, running down the aisle of some store with Will chasing after her. “Will and Amelia sittin’ in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes saying her name super weird. Then comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes _me being an aunt!_ ”

 

“Give that back!” Will shouts.

 

The camera goes sideways, losing Beth from the frame. But her voice still rings out in a singsong tone as she says, “I’m hitting send!”

 

Amelia’s met Beth before, though the girl can’t possibly remember it. She’d been a toddler fast asleep against her brother’s shoulder. But this feels like the beginning of a connection between them. Amelia already knows she’ll keep this video forever, a souvenir of the moment she started to fall in love with this little girl.

 

_AP: She’s beautiful, Will. I understand why you want to wait, but I can’t wait to meet her in person again._

 

_WQ: Thanks! This is still Beth. Will won’t wrestle me for the phone so it’s mine now. Possession is nine-tenths or something, right? So it’s at least mostly mine. I wanna meet you too. And what do you mean again?!_

 

Oops.

 

_AP: You weren’t even two the last time I saw you in person. I’ve known your brother a long time._

 

_WQ: Ummmm, hold plz while i scream at my brother and ask him why we aren’t BFFs RIGHT NOW. BRB._

 

Amelia grins at her screen, unable to contain her joy. It might not be in person, but in some ways she feels like Will has finally introduced them to each other. That means so much to Amelia that her heart aches. She wants to whisper her thanks to Will and shake Beth’s hand, maybe even hug her if she allows it. She wants to take her for a milkshake and learn everything she possibly can about the young girl. She wants to watch Will and Beth interact, wants to revel in the love they both obviously have for each other. She wants the three of them to curl up on the sofa and watch some stupid movie that gets Beth invested while she and Will make suggestive faces at each other over her head.

 

She doesn’t just want Will, Amelia realizes. She does, but it’s more than that. She wants a family.

 

And she wants it with him.

 

The idea has her heart rate picking up, her palms getting a little sweaty. They have so much they need to face yet. They’re still at the start in so many ways. But she can see a life with him in a way she’s never seen with anyone else.

 

And she wants it.

 

_WQ: so beth just got us kicked out of the store bc she kept shrieking & hitting me. she’s a menace & she luvs u already. guess she has good taste. _

 

Amelia chuckles at her phone.

 

_AP: I sort of love her already, too._

 

_WQ: listen this is weird but she’s threatening 2 steal my phone & txt u a proposal so just know that’s not me. i wouldn’t do that. not like that _

 

Her breath catches. She reads the text more than once, soaking it in. A dozen replies flit through her head, but she pushes back the urge to type, _‘So how would you do it, then?’_ It’s not the time and he’s already let more of his boundaries fall away today than she’d expected.

 

_AP: I’d know it was her because she uses capital letters._

 

_WQ: cute._

 

She doesn’t have to see him to know he’s laughing.

 

_WQ: i love you._

 

_AP: I love you, too. I’m headed home to get some work done and actually clean my house. I know you work tomorrow. Are you coming when you get off?_

 

The double-entendre is accidental, but she’s not even a little sorry.

 

_WQ: appealing idea. have 2 c how tomorrow goes, tho. txt u from wrk?_

 

_AP: Sure. Have fun with Beth._

 

He sends her a winking emoji. She replies with a pair of kissing lips before pocketing her phone. The smile she wears sticks with her the entire way home.

 

It’s not dark yet by the time she gets to her apartment, but it’s getting close. Amelia pulls her keys out before she even reaches her building, making her way through the hall to her place. She hums under her breath, daydreams of Will and Beth filling her head.

 

Every single one evaporates when she turns the corner.

 

Amelia jerks to a stop, her jaw dropping. “Moira? What are you doing here?”

 

“I thought perhaps we might talk,” the older woman replies. Amelia blinks at her before continuing toward her door. Moira steps aside, giving her space as she works the lock.

 

“How long have you been standing on my doorstep?” Amelia asks.

 

“Not long.”

 

“Have you been watching me?” Amelia asks, looking back over her shoulder in disbelief.

 

“Darling, everyone is watching you right now,” Moira replies and Amelia freezes. “That’s why I’m here and why I made sure to arrive before you got home. May I come in?”

 

All Amelia can do is stare at her for a beat. Say what you will about Moira Queen, but the woman certainly knows how to set a tone. Her first instinct is to assume that this is yet another game. Amelia wouldn’t put it past her. But their last interaction doesn’t fit with that. Wariness fills her and she thinks about telling Moira to just leave… But curiosity has her in its grip.

 

Which is exactly what the woman wants, Amelia realizes. _Damn it._ With a resigned sigh, she tilts her head toward her apartment, gesturing for Moira to go in. When she does, Amelia glances both ways down her hallway, waiting for the catch.

 

Someone’s watching her? What the hell does that even mean?

 

Amelia closes the door behind her with a soft snick, flipping on the light. Despite the direness in Moira’s voice, everything is precisely as Amelia left it. Her apartment has stood untouched for the last day and a half. It’s a bit of a mess - she hadn’t been lying to Will when she said she needed to clean - but it’s familiar and it’s home.

 

Or, well, it’s as close to home as any place without Will can be, anyhow.

 

But even here, there are signs of him everywhere.

 

His spare phone charger sits on the table near her door. He’s got a scarf on her coat rack and his messy scrawl marks a baseball game he got them tickets for on her calendar. They’re little things, but they’re everywhere. Amelia has no doubt whatsoever that Moira spots every single one of them.

 

“You seem well,” Moira says, running her finger along the rim of an abandoned novelty cup that says _‘Firefighters Like It Hot!’_ She raises both eyebrows knowingly at Amelia.

 

She’s suddenly viciously aware of the hickey on her neck.

 

Amelia clears her throat and grabs the mug, moving to the kitchen to rinse it out. “I _am_ well,” she replies, keenly aware that if Moira really does have someone watching her, she’s either fully informed about her sobbing in the park, or will be soon enough. “But you didn’t come here to ask after me and make baited statements about my love life, did you?”

 

“No. I did not.”

 

“What did you mean about everyone watching me?” Amelia asks. “Who is ‘ _everyone_?'”

 

“Senator Powers,” Moira replies without preamble. Amelia starts, going very still. “The interim mayor. The defense attorney for Domino’s men that you’re testifying against. ARGUS. Me... Less than savory characters.” She rattles off the list like she’s grocery shopping and that has Amelia’s heart stalling more than anything. She falls back a step, her mouth moving soundlessly. Moira watches her with a disconnected interest chills her to the core. “You’re of interest to _far_ too many people. You need to be careful, Amelia. You need to be prudent.”

 

“Why?” Amelia asks. “Why… Why are these people watching me? Why are _you_ watching me? You’re retired.”

 

“Retired,” Moira clarifies. “Not dead. I know that you don’t want my help, Amelia, but this is more than you can take on, even with a mask. We all need help sometimes. I’m here to lend you mine, whether you want it or not.”

 

Yesterday, she might’ve taken those words differently. But yesterday she hadn’t committed herself to helping Will whether he liked it or not. Today is different.

 

“Powers is doing everything he can to ensure you do not find professional success,” Moira informs her. “You will find this hospital of yours extremely difficult to build, if it’s even possible at all. He doesn’t allow things to happen in this city without his say-so. Not the victories, at any rate. He needs to craft a very specific image for himself.”

 

“And the interim mayor?” Amelia asks. “What about him?”

 

“A minor annoyance, at best.” Moira waves the idea off. “He’ll be out when the election hits unless he has backing I don’t know about.”

 

“Is that possible?”

 

“Unlikely,” Moira replies. “But nothing is impossible. Surely you know that by now, Providence _._ ”

 

Amelia’s face goes carefully blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

To her surprise, a smile of pride lights up Moira’s face, as if Amelia’s passed some test. “Smart girl,” she praises. “You should be careful who you trust. And you should be careful about what you say as well as where you say it.”

 

It’s as much a warning of, ‘ _You might be bugged,’_ as it’s a warning of, _‘I might not be trustworthy_.’

 

Frustration races through Amelia.

 

“Tell me about the rest,” she demands. “The defense and ARGUS.”

 

“I have no idea why ARGUS is watching you,” Moira tells her. “You may have a friend who can clue you in about that.”

 

The Diggles, she means. John and Lyla. The Diggles have been infrequent fixtures in the lair since she joined the team. Each of them is older than Oliver and each of them are feeling the physical nature of the part they play. She’s sure of that, even if it’s not stated outright. Short of something cataclysmic happening, she can’t see them suiting up on a regular basis anymore. Which means she rarely sees them. But it’s frequent enough for Moira to know about the connection, to suggest it because ARGUS is watching her.

 

It suddenly leaves Amelia feeling like she’s been thrown off a cliff.

 

What the hell is happening?

 

“As for the defense and their employer,” Moira continues, “it’s to discredit you as a witness, of course. Surely you’ve figured out that the defense and Domino’s people are one and the same.”

 

Amelia blinks at her. “What?”

 

“Domino, whoever he is, has hired the very best for his men,” Moira explains. “The attorney for Mr. Ketherington and Mr. Meyers is cutthroat, underhanded, and he gets results. He’s precisely who I’d hire, were I in their shoes. And I have no doubt he’s working directly for your crime boss. The fact that Domino has the money to hire such a man in the first place should be something of a clue to you as to his identity.”

 

“Do you know who he is?” Amelia demands. “Domino, I mean.”

 

“I have no idea,” Moira replies. There’s a pause in her voice that hints at her sincerity. She _wants_ to know, that much is obvious. “But I know two things. He has money, and for some reason he’s willing to spend a lot of it on two of his minions in court. Now why, do you suppose, would that be?”

 

Moira stares at her, waiting. It’s an old game between them, Moira pushing her, baiting her, prompting her to step back and see the boardgame in a different light. As much as it has frustration bubbling up in her chest, something does itch at the back of Amelia’s mind.

 

“Oh,” Amelia breathes.

 

“Yes,” Moira replies with quiet delight.

  
“One of Domino’s boys knows his identity… It’s one of those two men. He’s not protecting his minions,” she realizes as a few of the pieces fall into place. “He’s protecting _himself_.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - Off-screen accidental gun-related death of a child and alcohol abuse. The child is not a known character.
> 
> This is a rough chapter. For completely different reasons than last week, I would not personally choose to read it in public. I felt like it was vital to show a glimpse of Will's job, what a bad day for him might look like, and how he copes (or doesn't). That said, the chapter gets a lot easier as it goes and there are some wonderful moments toward the end... and a surprising face shows up. 
> 
> On another front... Just as an update, I'm lagging slightly behind where I wanted to be with my original works, but I'm about 14k in and have a clear, exciting path ahead. I'm aiming for roughly 100k. The handful of friends I'm bouncing it off of seem really engaged and excited and I have high hopes for the story (tentatively titled Picture It) and the rest of the pending series (tentatively titled Scorching Internet Connections). I'll keep you guys updated, but I'm expecting the draft to be done by fall, editing to be done by the end of the year, and I'll start working toward publication after New Year's (likely self-publishing, but I'm not positive yet). If you've ever thought to yourself "I love Will and Amelia but I wish they had less trauma and didn't have those ten years of pining" you're gonna love Kate and Adam. They're not the same, but somehow that sizzle, the vibe that is Ameliam, translated over. And I could not be happier about it. 
> 
> Thank you as always, guys! I have an insanely busy couple of weeks ahead (chaperoning a field trip, going out of town, end of the school year, friend visiting, and SIX doctors appointments in the next three weeks... plus writing and stressful ongoing family drama) so again, it may take me a bit to reply to comments, but I promise I always read them as I get them and every comment means so very much. <3

Ten years ago this month, Will went out on his first call as a firefighter.

 

It’d been an uneventful day, something he’d been disappointed about at the time. He’d wanted to be in the thick of it, wanted to save lives, to be someone’s hero.

 

He’d been a fool.

 

Quiet days are a blessing, and wishing for anything besides that is selfish. He still sees the naive eagerness he’d once had reflected in the faces of greener firefighters, the young ones fresh out of training with puffed up chests and delusions of grandeur lighting their eyes.

 

They’ll learn, he knows. Just like he did.

 

He’s saved a lot of lives over the last decade, but he’s lost people, too. Most days he can’t remember the ones they got to in time. No, most of the time his mind conjures up the sight of terrified eyes about to go blank. He hears their final rattling breaths and the blood-curdling screams of family members his team tries to keep back.

 

Today’s like that.

 

Losses hit them all hard, but nothing hits like the loss of a kid.

 

Will swallows around a lump in his throat. This one is gonna stick with him. It’s going to haunt his dreams. He’ll carry it around in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down and festering like a wound that won’t heal. They’d worked too long on that little girl, well after she’d been gone. But neither he nor Alex had been willing to give up. Not when he looked down and saw that kid’s face, saw eyes so much like Bethy’s, saw all the others they couldn’t save.

 

_Just this one. Please._

 

Playing it back in his mind, he knows they couldn’t have done anything different. But knowing that does nothing to quell the _what ifs_ and the _if onlys_ playing over and over in his head.

 

What if they’d been faster?

 

What if there hadn’t been traffic?

 

What if they’d pushed their way through?

 

What if that sweet little girl’s parents had locked up that damned gun where her three-year-old sister couldn’t have gotten ahold of it?

 

It’s senseless. It’s so fucking senseless he can’t stand it. So many lives ruined over a little bit of carelessness. He tries not to think about her classmates being told, tries not to think about the three-year-old who will always blame herself, tries not to think about the fear in that girl’s eyes as he held her hand while she died.

 

He fails. Just like he failed her.

 

They’d all broken down in the truck on the way back to the station. Javi threw up in the back while Sara hid her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. For Will’s part, he’d just stared at his hands, wondering what he could’ve done differently, how he could’ve been better.

 

All he got in return was the thick silence of failure.

 

The initial debrief back at the station had been mostly quiet. All of them had trouble talking about it. ‘Hot wash’ meetings are like that. It’s never any better when the critical incident stress management team shows up and that was true this time, too. They can’t help. They never help. That little girl is still dead and Will’s still going to see her eyes every time he closes his own.

 

He said all the right things to the right people. He’s gotten good at that. The expectation to suck it up and deal pervades their career, just as it always has. And sometimes Will thinks the department just wants to cover its own ass before sending them out on another call. They don’t care that Javi holed up in the breakroom calling his nieces and nephews, or that Alex damn near split the punching bag. They don’t care that Sara spent the rest of their downtime staring into her coffee cup like it might have some kind of answer for her. They sure as hell don’t care that Will faked a somber smile and swore he’d be okay.

 

“We ain’t God, Vato,” Alex had said after their shift. His knuckles had bled through the tape he’d wrapped them in, working like punctuation on the end of that simple sentence.

 

“Yeah,” Will had replied.

 

 _But we’re supposed to be heroes_.

 

Not today. He’s no one’s hero today.

 

He doesn’t remember driving home. He barely remembers being in his car, much less shoving his key into the ignition and pulling out onto a street. The world blurs together around him until there’s nothing left but the little girl’s eyes. She’d been so young. She could’ve been in Beth’s class. She could've been…

 

Will chokes on his own thoughts and tries to shove them away, but they linger.

 

The second he’s in the door to his condo, he finds the whisky bottle he keeps in the cupboard above his coffeemaker. He doesn’t bother with a glass, whipping the top off so hard it flies across the room, hitting a wall with a sharp ping.

 

Whisky sears his throat going down, but not enough. Not today. Nothing is enough today.

 

The bottle’s half-empty before he knows it.

 

He hasn’t done this in a while. It’s been a bit since they had a loss this brutal, and Amelia’s been here or he’s been at her place. She’s distracted him from the day-to-day trauma of his life. Most of the time, her presence has been enough to stave off the need to drown out the bad memories, enough for him to shut them off and let himself fall into her softness. Some days it’s enough, being with her. Some days it’s only a glass or two before bed, or waiting until she’s fallen asleep to step outside with it, taking a few sips to kill his thoughts and put himself to sleep. But other days - days like today - he just…

 

He needs _more_.

 

Shame sinks its ugly claws into his chest and he chokes down another heavy gulp of whisky.

 

He _needs_ this, he needs it more than he needs Amelia, more than he needs food, or water, or sleep. He needs _oblivion_ and it’s waiting for him at the bottom of this bottle. He needs to erase this day, if just for a few hours, to black out so he can’t see that little girl’s eyes, go numb so he can’t feel her blood on his hands.

 

If he can do that, he’ll be able to open his eyes tomorrow and maybe… Maybe it’ll be easier.

 

Will doesn’t turn on any of the lights as he stumbles to his threadbare sofa. It lets out a sharp creak when he lands on it, the bottle in his hand hitting the coffee table hard enough it clatters. His ragged breaths punctuate the spurts of thoughts bombarding his mind. There’s something he’s supposed to do, but he can’t remember what, and right now he doesn’t care. An empty tumbler sits under the coffee table and Will snatches it up, not caring that it’s full of dust. He pours a couple fingers of amber liquid and drinks it all in one swallow.

 

The burn of it scraping down his throat has his eyes watering. But when he closes them, all he sees is the little girl.

 

Will digs his palms into his eyes, a hollow sob ringing off the walls.

 

 _More_.

 

Hands shaking, he pours more whisky. Some of it sloshes over the side, leaving a wet ring when he picks up the glass and drinks half of it in one hearty gulp. God, he hopes it’ll hit soon. He needs everything to blur, to go indistinct and fade, even if just for a little bit. _Please_. He barely feels it, though, so he finishes the glass. Wet dust and dirt crowd the inside of the tumbler, but that doesn’t stop him from filling it again and taking another drink. This one is slower, but no less deep.

 

 _Please_.

 

It takes him too long to realize his phone is vibrating in his pocket.

 

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He just needs a few fucking minutes, that’s _all_. He just needs to escape and then… Then he can respond. But he can’t wait, can he? No, not with what his family does. If there was some kind of emergency and he didn’t pick up, he’d never forgive himself.

 

Also, he knows for a fact that someone would come knocking if he did ignore a call.

 

They have before.

 

“Fuck,” he groans, digging his phone out of his pocket. It’s not a call, though.

 

_AP: Hey you! Not coming over after all, I take it?_

 

It’s so bright and happy - so _Amelia_ \- that it takes him a moment to remember that this is how most people probably start their day. God, she deserves someone who shares that light, who can shine it right back at her.

 

The phone trembles in his hands as he stares at her happy message and he wishes with everything in him that he was different. That he was _better_. For her.

 

But he’s not. Not right now at least. Maybe in a few hours. Maybe tomorrow.

 

_WQ: hey. rly bad day. i’d b bad company rn._

 

He hits send and stares at the wallpaper of his phone where Amelia smiles brilliantly back at him. It’s too much and he averts his eyes, back to the bottle on his coffee table. He barely feels a fucking thing happening and he knows he’ll need to pick up more whisky soon. He used to be better prepared for days like this, but he let himself think he didn’t have to do that anymore.

 

He’d been wrong.

 

_AP: Are you okay? Want me to come over?_

 

The message comes through right away and irritation pulls at Will’s gut. Of course he doesn’t want her to come over. Didn’t he just say he’d be bad company?

 

_WQ: no. i’ll b fine. thx_

 

He moves to toss his phone away, but the three little dots pop up on his screen. He grits his teeth, annoyed at whatever she’s going to say, annoyed she isn’t listening to him, annoyed that he stares at them with a desperation that is way past pathetic. He needs to drown his sorrows and lick his wounds. The last thing he wants is for that to be on display.

 

Just as he’s about to shut his phone off, her message appears.

 

_AP: Will… Honey, what happened?_

 

The question brings it all back in a rush that’s too fresh. Tears cloud his vision and he grabs his glass, tipping back the rest of the contents. A teardrop slips down his cheek and he wipes it away roughly, sniffling as he pours another glass.

 

He can’t possibly bring himself to say it. Not even in writing.

 

_WQ: check the news. call up in the heights a few hrs ago. 9 y/o._

 

He hits send, but his fingers shake so badly that he almost drops his phone. He’s typing again before he knows it.

 

_WQ: it was real bad, amelia._

 

The tiniest sense of relief wells deep in his chest. Somehow, just typing the word ‘bad’ gives him a small reprieve. It’s nowhere near what he’s seeking, but it’s something. He’s not good at sharing burdens. Nobody else should have to carry this around, and for a second he almost tells her that he’ll be fine, that he just needs time. But he doesn’t. Because even if he doesn’t want her to shoulder any of this, some small, uncontrollable part of him craves having a person to lean on.

 

She takes long enough to reply that he knows she’s doing as he says.

 

The news will be splashed across the headlines by now, running as a ticker along the top of the page in bright red: _Breaking News: Tragedy strikes Heights family._ They’ll interview someone about gun safety later in the day. Someone will comment on the page calling for stricter gun control laws. Someone will reply back talking about the second amendment. Everyone will offer thoughts and prayers. _Everyone_ will blame the parents.

 

And absolutely none of it will matter. Because she’ll still be dead, and he’ll still see the light fading from her eyes.

 

Groaning, Will scrubs his face until his skin burns. He used to be so much better at locking this kind of thing away. Kids are always the hardest, but doing the job means leaving some of the trauma behind so he can respond to the next call and do his best to save whoever else needs him. Maybe it’s that he’s so keenly aware of his own mortality these days, or maybe it’s that he’s out of practice still after so long on medical leave. But it’s been a hell of a lot harder compartmentalizing everything since he got shot.

 

_AP: I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t even imagine what that was like. What do you need?_

 

He chokes out a sound that’s halfway between a sob and a sardonic laugh. He doesn’t actually know. He hasn’t got the first clue. Whisky is the only thing that comes to mind. Sleep. The total absence of thoughts. Numbness.

 

He just wants to not _feel_ for a few minutes.

 

But that’s not the kind of answer he can give her, and he knows it.

 

_WQ: 2b alone. I’m sry_

 

_AP: Don’t you dare apologize for being honest about what you need, Will. Not now. Not ever._

 

He lets out a quiet sob. It’s different than the other ones, more shattered, and it immediately leads to another. Before he knows it, he breaks down into tears, collapsing back against his crappy sofa. He doesn’t feel the shitty springs digging into his side or the way his head is finally starting to get a little floaty. All he can concentrate on is his phone. He cradles it like a lifeline, staring at Amelia’s message. He’s so grateful she can’t see him like this.

 

Despite that, though, despite how much he wants to keep her away from his ugliness, a small part of him still wishes she were here.

 

It is easier by text, though.

 

_WQ: just wanna stop seeing her. that’s all. wish i couldn’t hear the baby crying or her mom screaming. it’s a lot. it’s too much._

 

The admission leaves him feeling weak and he curses under his breath. He’s supposed to be able to deal with this. It’s his fucking job, and it has been for ten years. And yet he’s sitting in the dark, gulping down whisky, and crying himself sick at seven in the morning.

 

Will grits his teeth against his cries, but the tears don’t stop.

 

_AP: You’re human, my love. Of course it’s too much._

 

_WQ: she reminded me of bethy._

 

He’s typing the words before he knows it. They fall out of him without a single thought, needing somewhere to go.

 

_WQ: dark hair, dark eyes. just wanna stop seeing them._

 

There’s a long pause before Amelia replies. For a fleeting second, Will wonders if she’s finally given up, if she’s realized he’s too much. The idea sends a surge of panic right through him and he sits up in a rush, moving to tell her nevermind, he’ll be fine, he’ll see her tomorrow… _Just don’t go, please don’t go…_

 

His phone vibrates with a text before he can.

 

_AP: I wish I was there with you. Even if it was just to hold you for a little while. But I understand needing to be alone. Can I come by later today or do you have plans with Beth?_

 

That’s what he needs, Will realizes with a snap. Of course. He needs to see Beth. He hadn’t even considered it before, but he needs her today. Hearing her teasing voice and riotous laugh, seeing that spark of life in her eyes…

 

It’s suddenly more important than breathing.

 

_WQ: i think i need to see beth, but ilu, amelia. thx for this. for being here._

 

_AP: You don’t have to thank me for being with you, Will. It’s the only place I want to be._

 

The thought, ‘ _So why did you leave me all those times?’_ rises unbidden. Will pushes it back down, because he wants to believe her. But that’s dangerous. People leave. People die. And when they go, they leave scars in their wake.

 

He’s already got too many as it is.

 

_WQ: gonna try 2 nap a bit ‘til beth’s off school._

 

_AP: I’m not judging, but if you’re going to be spending time with Beth later, maybe put down the whisky?_

 

Will starts. All he can do is stare at the screen with a bleary look, wondering if he’s imagining things. But he’s not.

 

_AP: I know you, my love. This is hard and I understand, but don’t make it hard on Beth. Okay?_

 

He struggles to breathe. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, fear and worry racing through his veins. And embarrassment. There’s definitely embarrassment, too. Whisky’s his crutch, and he knows it. But he hadn’t realized Amelia did. Having his flaws shot back at him like this leaves him feeling naked in a way that nudity never has.

 

_WQ: k_

 

_AP: Thank you._

 

He shakes his head. Why in the hell is _she_ thanking _him_?

 

_WQ: yeah_

 

_AP: I love you, Will. Get some rest. Dream about all of us who love you and call me later._

 

It’s a sweet sentiment, but Will hopes he dreams of nothing at all. Anything good is likely to morph into a nightmare after the day he had. But Amelia doesn’t understand that. Hell, he wouldn’t have understood it a few years ago.

 

But the sentiment lingers, lending him enough strength to push the whisky bottle away with his foot.

 

_WQ: talk in a few hours. ilu too._

 

His screen goes black as he stares at it, but the darkness leaves him feeling more alone than he’s comfortable with. Glancing at the coffee table, at the mess he made, it’s undeniable that he doesn’t make the smartest choices when he’s by himself and hurting. But it’s just so much _easier_ with a buzz. The sharper edges of his imagination dull under the influence of whisky, and that brings a certain peace with it…

 

But, it also means he can’t picture Amelia quite so perfectly.

 

Fumbling with his phone, Will unlocks it and goes to his photos. He flips through them one by one. They’re all so happy. No one takes pictures of the bad moments. But, at his lowest points it’s hard to remember that these moments are true. It feels like he’s staring at someone else as he soaks in the selfies of him and Beth, and the shots of him and Amelia.

 

As much as he denies it, he needs the perfect curve of her smile and the way her eyes laugh when he says something funny. He needs to see that she’s real and solid and happy with him, even if none of it makes sense.

 

Will stares at his favorite shot of her, one he’d taken as she celebrated her baseball team’s victory over his. He touches his fingers to the screen like it might take him right back to that perfect moment.

 

But it doesn’t.

 

He’s still here, in the dark, on his half-broken sofa. He could get up. His bed isn’t that far away and it’s definitely more comfortable. But it also just doesn’t seem worth the effort. So he ignores the spring poking him in the side when he lies down. He’s used to it by now. He situates his phone where he can stare at Amelia until he finally succumbs to a dreamless sleep.

 

When he wakes several hours later, it’s with a dull headache and a painfully dry mouth.

 

“Damn,” he mutters, peeling his eyes open before snapping them shut with a grimace. He pulls a throw pillow over his face with a groan. The world’s too damn bright, even with the drapes shut. It makes his head throb with sharp pangs against his temples. And that only makes his gut tighten on a nauseous swirl. Maybe he should’ve had something to eat before knocking back nearly an entire bottle.

 

Curling in on himself, Will turns to dig his face into the back of the sofa.

 

His movement knocks his phone where it’d been resting on his chest. He fumbles for it, pulling it into his darkened sanctuary beneath the pillow to check the time.

 

2:17.

 

“Aw, _damn it_ ,” he snaps.

 

Beth’s off school in forty-three minutes. It’s a solid twenty-minute drive this time of day and he somehow has to drag himself from the sofa and look halfway presentable in spite of a mild hangover and general distaste for the world at large.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

Covering his eyes with one hand, Will forces himself to sit up. His neck is stiff as hell from his ill-advised sleeping arrangements and his side aches from the stray sofa spring. He might only be thirty-two, but right now he feels about his father’s age, and in considerably worse shape.

 

Ibuprofen. He needs ibuprofen.

 

Stumbling his way to the kitchen, he grabs a glass of water and a pair of caplets, gulping them down before wrestling with the coffee machine. If he has any hope of seeming okay to Beth, he needs coffee. The first cup is scalding, but he swallows it down as he walks to the shower for the world’s fastest scrub-down.

 

And that’s saying something as a firefighter.

 

He doesn’t have time to shave and there’s not a damn thing he can do about the bruised circles under his eyes. He does take a second to swish some mouthwash before brushing his teeth.

 

With five minutes to spare, he’s out the door and headed to Beth’s school. Any semblance of looking like he’s not a complete mess is entirely due to the combination of decent clothes and dark sunglasses he slaps onto his face. It’ll be fine, he thinks as he drives. Beth won’t even notice and the slightly-unkempt-but-incredibly-caring-big-brother thing has never earned him scorn from her schoolmates’ parents. Quite the opposite, actually, he thinks with a snort. Attempting to get involved with the PTA a few years back had been an eye-opening experience.

 

He joins the group of soccer moms and at-home dads minutes before the school bell rings. Instead of talking to anyone, he spends his time texting David and Beth’s next-door neighbor. He hadn’t actually been supposed to pick her up today. She was supposed to take her bike to her neighbor’s until her dad got off work in case Will was too tired after being on shift. But he’s not, and he needs to see her. It’s easy enough to change those plans.

 

Plus, it gives him an excuse to avoid talking to the people around him.

 

Usually he’s game to be social, but not today.

 

Today the only person he wants to see is Beth. He needs to. He must, considering the sheer amount of noise he’s willing to put up with by coming to an elementary school at dismissal.

 

The school bell rings and he barely hides his pained grimace. It gets harder when the joyful shrieks of kids running out of the building comes next. Lord, they’re noisy. Are all kids this loud? Was _he_? He doesn’t remember it that way.

 

Beth’s easy to spot when she comes out. His chest instantly loosens at the sight of her. God, he didn’t even realize there’d been such a tight band around his ribs until he sees her laughing face. She’s easily the tallest kid heading toward the bike racks, her helmet in hand as she chatters animatedly with another girl he vaguely recognizes as her most recent ‘best friend ever.’

 

Cringing even as he does it, Will brings his fingers to his lips and lets out a shrill whistle.

 

It’s a jackhammer to his skull, but it serves its purpose. Beth spots him right away and her whole face lights up as she waves at him.

 

Suddenly, it’s all worth it. All the noise, the rush, the chaos he walked right into. Because Beth’s eyes are light and bright, filled with joy and life. He could cry at the sight of it even from fifty feet away.

 

That lasts as she wheels her bike over to him, continuing even when she starts speaking.

 

“So, are you trying to grow a beard or is hobo in fashion and no one told me?”

 

“We don’t use that word,” Will scolds. “Get over here.”

 

The minute she’s within reach, he pulls her into his arms. With a heavy sigh, he shuts his eyes and dips his head to press his nose to her hair. The relief that washes over him bleeds the tension from his body, leaving him strangely exhausted for someone who just woke up.

 

Despite her friends milling about all around them, she doesn’t pull away. Not even when he keeps holding her like he never intends to let go.

 

“Will, are you okay?” she asks, her voice muffled by his chest.

 

“Am now.”

 

It’s sort of true, and it’s definitely the only thing she needs to know.

 

He pulls back a little to look down at her, brushing her hair away from her face. He soaks in the pure life shining in her worried eyes. She’s okay. His Bethy is fine. He’d needed to see that, even if it does nothing to erase the fact that someone else’s little girl isn’t.

 

Beth furrows her brow as she reaches up and pushes his sunglasses atop his head. She winces, so he guesses he did a piss-poor job of looking presentable.

 

“No offense, but you look like crap.”

 

Will gives her an annoyed look. “We don’t use that word, either.”  


“I coulda said worse,” she points out. “And I’d be right.”

 

“That’s not…” He stops and shakes his head. “That’s not the _point_ , Bethy.”

 

“It’s _my_ point.”

 

Will frowns. “Can you go back to being that sweet, silent kid who was hugging me a minute ago?”

 

Beth scrunches up her nose and pretends to think about it. “I’m not so good at the silent bit. Or the sweet part, either. Besides, I’m sorta worried about you.” Her eyes go huge with a look of horror. “You and Amelia didn’t break up, did you? Because that is not allowed! Hold on, I’ll call her.”

 

“Wait, what? No… Hold on,” Will says, trying to make his brain work at anything approaching normal capacity. “Just stop a minute.”

 

Beth already has her phone in hand, but she doesn’t make a move to use it. Instead, she raises an expectant eyebrow at him as he waits.

 

“First of all, no, we didn’t break up. We’re fine.”

 

“Oh, thank God,” Beth breathes, her shoulders sagging as she presses a hand to her heart.

 

“Secondly,” Will continues, “since when do you have her number?”

 

“Oh. Since I stole it from your phone.” Beth smiles. There isn’t an ounce of shame anywhere to be seen. She says it like it’s the most matter-of-fact statement she could’ve uttered.

 

He gestures helplessly with both hands, staring at her with wide, blinking eyes. “You _what_?”

 

“Keep it cool, dude,” Beth instructs. If she hears him echo, _‘Dude?’_ she gives no indication, instead continuing on. “I haven’t used it yet. Like, I _will_. No question there, but we haven’t been like… swapping stories or anything yet.”

 

“Yet,” he repeats. Will lets out a short bark of laughter. “You’re terrifying.”

 

“I know.” She grins. It’s toothy and proud. “That’s part of my charm. Now, do I have to ask her what happened, or are you going to tell me yourself?”

 

Any levity brought on by Beth being herself evaporates at the question and he sighs as he lowers his sunglasses back down. “How about I bribe you with ice cream to not bring it up again?”

 

“How about you get me ice cream and we talk on the way to the shop instead of me texting Amelia… Or Jules? Or Oliver?”

 

Will narrows his eyes at her. “Get in the damn car.”

 

“We don’t use that wo-”

 

“Seriously, Beth.”

 

His words come out harsher than he intends. He winces, but he can’t bring himself to say anything else, instead offering her a heavy look over the rim of his sunglasses. It seems to be enough to drive home his point because she does shut her mouth. But it doesn’t stop her from rolling her eyes as she picks up her bicycle to walk it over to his car.

 

They don’t talk as he loads her ten-speed up on the bike rack, or as they pile into the car. But he can feel her expectant gaze fixed on him. He sees the phone in her lap, too. And he knows Beth well enough to know that she doesn’t make idle threats.

 

He bites his tongue as they pull onto the main road.

 

“Lost a kid at work,” Will finally admits, turning toward the ice cream shop that Ellie swears by. “It was… hard.”

 

It feels like the biggest understatement of his life.

 

“What happened?”

 

He shakes his head. “I can’t really talk about it, Beth.”

 

“Look, I’m not a baby,” she reminds him. It’s funny because she is still too little to sit in the front seat, so she’s glowering at him in the rearview mirror. “And even when I was, I had more experience with this kind of thing than most people ever do. I almost died, remember?”

 

“Remember?” Will growls, twisting to glare at her. It’s too sharp again and he grits his teeth, dialing his attitude down as he turns back toward the road. “God, Beth, you have no idea.”

 

“All I’m saying is that I’m basically an adult when it comes to this stuff,” she argues. “You can talk to me.”

 

“No, Beth,” he counters. “I can’t. And it has nothing to do with _you_.” In the rearview mirror, he watches her purse her lips and narrow her eyes as her stare turns wary. “Did it even occur to you that _I_ might not want to talk about it?”

 

Everything about her softens at that. For the first time today, she looks like the child she is instead of the teenager she’d like to be.

 

“It’s hard,” Will tells her. “We see a lot of bad things. I need you because you remind me that there’s good stuff, too.”

 

“Oh,” she says softly. Beth chews her lip a little before adding. “I guess… I didn’t think about it like that.”

 

“Bethy, honey, I didn’t want you to.”

 

She’s ten. She’s just an elementary schooler. The world is full of all kinds of horrible things that he can’t fix for her. But, by God, he wants to keep them from her for as long as he can. Her life’s never been easy. There’s a hole in her heart where their mom’s presence should be. But he does the best he can with her. He loves her more than he could’ve possibly imagined back when she was born, this squirmy, colicky newborn who drove him nuts. And even if he can’t make things as innocent and carefree as they should’ve been, he never wants to be someone who makes it _worse_.

 

“So how many scoops are you gonna buy me?”

 

Will presses his lips together to keep from laughing. He knows she’s riling him up on purpose. He’s grateful for it, even if he wishes they lived in a world where she didn’t have to. He glances at her in the mirror again. “That depends. How are your grades?”

 

“Definitely two-scoop level,” Beth informs him. “Maybe three.”

 

“Three?” he questions as they pull into the parking lot. “What’d you do? Get a college scholarship?”

 

“Please,” she scoffs. “For that I’d expect the whole shop.”

 

Will puts the car in park and turns it off before angling to look back at her. “Of course you would.”

 

“You’ll never get what you don’t ask for,” Beth tells him, unbuckling her seatbelt. “So… Three scoops?”

 

“Two,” he negotiates, stepping out and reaching to open the door for her. “But you can have a waffle cone.”

 

Her eyes spark. “With sprinkles?”

 

“Obviously,” he replies. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

 

“Alright, we’re solid,” she announces, sliding out of the car and extending her hand for a handshake.

 

She’s something else, his Bethy.

 

“Remind me to talk to Felicity about hiring you at QI,” Will says. “Or my dad about working for his campaign. You’re fierce.”

 

“Maybe I’ll work with Amelia,” Beth suggests, grinning and shrugging one shoulder.

 

“Or… Maybe you’ll finish the fourth grade.”

 

“I don’t mean _now_.” Beth recoils. “I’m not Nate.”

 

“Really, who amongst us is?” Will asks, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s grab your two scoops.”

 

“I thought we agreed on three?”

 

The toothy grin she gives is solid proof that she did not. He rolls his eyes at her as they head toward the ice cream shop. When Beth laughs, poking him in the side, he can’t help but chuckle. But someone exits the shop just as they reach the door, the little bell above the entry jingling…

 

Will freezes when he sees who it is.

 

For a moment, all he can do is blink, because surely he must be dreaming. Or still drunk. Either possibility seems more likely than running into the only long-term girlfriend he’s ever had more than a decade after he last saw her.

 

She almost doesn’t recognize him. On one hand, that’s sort of great because he would’ve preferred they not interact at all. But on the other, it says a lot about how shitty he looks right now.

 

He isn’t allowed an escape, though. Recognition dawns on her face as he watches.

 

“ _Will?_ ”

 

His voice lodges in his throat, trapping any reply, as Beth curls up at his side. She gets as close as she can, staring up at the woman like she’s demanding attention.

 

Because she is. She’s Beth. That’s what she does.

 

His sister grounds him and he shakes his head, blinking himself back to reality.

 

“Hey, Allison,” he says before Beth can open her mouth. God only knows what would come out.

 

Saying his ex-girlfriend’s name out loud only makes the moment more surreal and it brings into focus precisely how much he’s changed since their time together.

 

They’d all but lived together back in college. She’d been the first one to break his heart. And, while he knows with hindsight that their breakup was the best thing that could’ve happened, that doesn’t mean that seeing her now isn’t like rubbing salt in an open wound.

 

It’s a solid reminder that she decided he wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe, the back of his mind whispers, he’s never been good enough for anyone.

 

Allison is still stunning, with eyes so dark they almost seem black until the light catches them. The healthy glow she’s always had lingers under her dark brown skin, making her almost ethereal. He knows he contrasts sharply with the picture she presents. He’s well aware of the circles beneath his eyes and how lifeless they probably look today. His scruff is too long to be intentional and too short to be a beard. He’s a mess while she’s polished and put-together.

 

Then again, that’s more or less why they broke up in the first place.

 

“Wow,” Allison says, blinking at him. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Yeah, it has,” Will agrees. “You look good, Ally.”

 

“Thanks...” she replies, her voice fading off, like she’s a bit shell-shocked. “How’ve you been, Will?”

 

 _‘Dying of small talk with my ex, actually_ ,’ he wants to say, but he can’t do that. Instead he opens his mouth to say something - _anything_ \- but Beth beats him to it.

 

“Dad, can we get ice cream now?” she asks, batting her eyes up at him before sending a sickly sweet smile at Allison.

 

Allison starts with a laugh, her eyes darting between Will and Beth. “Oh, um… Sorry?”

 

“ _Bethy_ ,” he says, giving her a look. “She thinks she’s hilarious. This is my little sister, Bethany.”

 

“Oh my God,” Allison says, blinking at Beth. “Wow. Well, _that_ puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

 

“Little bit,” Will agrees tightly.

 

Beth clearly doesn’t understand, but she also doesn’t look amused.

 

“Ally and I were dating back when you were born,” Will explains.

 

The information does nothing to make Beth any less frosty. She all but glares at Allison, lifting her chin in defiance. “Cool, I guess,” she says with a sigh before looking back to Will. “Can we get ice cream now? We need to remember to pick up a pint of strawberry for Amelia. That’s his girlfriend. He’s going to marry her and she’s going to be like my sister or maybe even like a mom. She’s already basically my best friend and I get to be a bridesmaid. So, it’s pretty perfect.”

 

Will can’t do anything but stare at the train wreck that is Bethany Ford as she barrels through his life, rewriting it precisely as she’d like. He blinks at her with his jaw unhinged, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do with all of _that_. How does he even begin to walk something like that back? What the hell is she doing?

 

Still, he can’t deny that something in him loves the picture she paints of their life. The thought of Amelia with a ring on her finger that _he_ put there and Beth grinning up at them in a junior bridesmaid’s dress is a lot. He can see that in a way he’s never been able to envision the future with anyone else - not even with Allison - but that still doesn’t mean it’s within his reach.

 

It makes his heart speed up and his mouth go dry anyhow, though.

 

“That’s sweet,” Allison says with the tone of someone who doesn’t know Beth at all, who takes everything his sister says at face value. “I’m really glad for both of you.”

 

“Uh… thanks,” Will manages. _I think_.

 

“You’re, um… Did you go through with being a firefighter?” Allison asks, unable to hide her wince.

 

“Will’s the _best_ firefighter,” Bethany interrupts. She’s definitely under the impression she’s helping things right now. “He’s a hero. He saves people _all_ the time. I really can’t even think of a more important job.”

 

“Ten years,” he adds, mostly to pull the conversation away from Beth.

 

“Wow,” Allison says. She stares at him with an appraising look, almost like she’s seeing him for the first time. “Do you like it?”

 

That’s a loaded question. It’s one he doesn’t quite know the answer to. He loves it. But he also hates it. There’s nothing in-between. Some days he feels like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done, and others… Well, others it feels like it’s chewing up his life and leaving only scraps behind.

 

But Allison doesn’t get to know any of that.

 

“Sure,” he says instead, plastering a pleasant smile on his face. “You’re a pharmacist?” he asks, mostly to direct the conversation away from himself.

 

“I am,” she agrees, her smile turning soft and proud all at once. “And my husband’s a pediatrician.”

 

“Amelia helps get hospitals built so that people like your husband can have a job,” Beth chimes in with an innocent smile that leaves Will choking on his own disbelief.

 

“How… wonderful,” Allison says offering Beth a tight smile. He can’t help noticing it looks exactly the same as his feels. “That’s a really important job... I should get going,” she adds, nodding to the parking lot. “The kids will riot if I’m not back with the ice cream and… Well, I guess you know how it is.”

 

“Yeah,” Will says, glancing at Beth with a warning look before turning to Allison again.

 

“It was nice seeing you, Will. Take care of yourself.”

 

“You too, Ally,” he replies.

 

His smile doesn’t drop until she steps away and heads for her car.

 

Will’s thoughts race a mile a minute. None of them fully register. He doesn’t have it in him to process this today. But he does know that seeing Allison _hurts_. It always would have. Not because he loved her once, if someone could even call it that. But because of how things ended. Because she decided that he wasn’t good enough for her. Because she made him feel like _less._

 

Even without trying to, he finds she still does.

 

“Listen,” Beth says. “I got her plates and I’m fully willing to pour some sugar in her gas tank if that’s appropriate. You don’t even have to say the word. Just wink twice if you want me to do it.”

 

Will squeezes her shoulder. “You’re a menace and you will not be causing any kind of property damage to a soccer mom’s minivan.”

 

“It does make you feel a little better that she’s driving a minivan, right?”

 

“No… Maybe.”

 

“I bet there are cheerios _all over_ the floor.”

 

Will laughs. It’s a short burst of good humor, but it’s honest and he pulls her into a full hug, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “God, I love you, Bethy.”

 

“Does that mean I get three scoops?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Damn,” she mutters. “Well, I had to try.”

 

“Beth?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We don’t use that word.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Brief descriptions by Will of previous losses at work, multiple conversations about coping with trauma

 

Amelia doesn’t have a key to Will’s place.

 

It’s fine. It’s normal, even. They haven’t been together that long and she hasn’t given him a key, either. That part doesn’t bother her. What _does_ bother her is standing on his doormat, fiddling with her phone to look busy as neighbors pass by.

 

She shouldn’t have come.

 

Amelia sighs, letting her head fall back. He’d asked for space, after all. She respects that. But it’s been the better part of a day and her heart hurts knowing that he’s in pain and she’s not there to help him through it.

 

Hopefully, spending time with Bethany helped a little. She knows he needed that, almost as much as she knows he has to need more support. God, the things he’s seen, the things he’s gone through… How often does he live through unimaginable horrors only to go home to empty rooms with no one to lean on? The thought makes her sick. It’s worse because she knows that’s exactly what he does. He’s not the kind of guy who would go to his family. He’d want to shield them. They go through a lot on their own, and he wouldn’t want to add to their burden.

 

But for him to be _alone_ …

 

She can’t handle that thought.

 

Which is why she stands in the hallway, in front of his door, staring blindly at her phone until footfalls come to an abrupt halt before her.

 

Breath catching in her throat, Amelia looks up. She knows it’s him before she sees him. And sure enough, there he is, staring at her like he’s not sure she’s really there.

 

God, he looks awful. Or, as awful as he can, anyhow. He’s still _Will_. He’s still beautiful to her, even with pain leaving thick grooves in his face and forcing his shoulders to droop. It takes everything in her to keep from reaching out to him immediately, from kissing away the lines of his brow and stroking his hair as she murmurs reassurances into his skin.

 

He doesn’t move.

 

“I’m sorry,” Amelia blurts out. Her phone nearly slips from her fingers as she rushes to shove it in her pocket before wringing her hands together. “I know you said you wanted to be alone and I’ll go if you want me to. I just… Sitting at home, knowing I could be here with you instead was driving me insane. I should’ve always been here for you and I wasn’t for so long. If you still need to be alone, I get it. That’s your right. I’ll leave. But I needed you to see that I _want_ to support you when things are hard. That I _want_ to be here.”

 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t do anything. His face remains frozen and unreadable. He just watches her.

 

The longer the silence stretches on, the faster her heart pounds, her nerves ramping up.

 

“Um,” she says, twisting her fingers together. “I’ll just…”

 

He moves. Amelia holds her breath as he walks toward her. At first, she thinks he’s headed for the door and that he’ll leave her on his welcome mat without a word. She’d deserve that, considering she just showed up after he told her not to. She shouldn’t have come. She should’ve respected his wishes.

 

She moves to do just that, stepping back to make room for him, but he doesn’t want it.

 

Will ignores his door and reaches for her instead. He burrows into her, clinging to her. And, with a sigh of relief, Amelia wraps him up. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in with a hitched sound that might be a sob before letting it out in a rattling sigh.

 

She holds him as tightly as she can, turning her face into him. The remnants of whisky seeping from his pores tickles her nose and it only makes her hold him tighter. She should have been here sooner. But she’s here _now_ and that’s all that matters. Amelia pushes her hands into his hair. It settles something in her, holding on to him. The comfort of touch means so much to her and the need to run her fingers along his skin, to bury them in his hair and keep him close, has been filling her with unspent nervous energy all day.

 

Part of her wonders which of them needed this more.

 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his beard scraping against her neck. “I’m sorry.”

 

Does he even know what he’s apologizing for?

 

“It’s okay,” Amelia promises, stroking her fingers against his scalp. “You’re okay, honey.”

 

She doesn’t hear whatever he mumbles in reply. He digs his nose deeper into her neck and lets his body go slack against her, the strain of everything melting right off of him. And _God_ , she’s never been so relieved in her life. She needs this, she realizes, to be the one he turns to, to be the one who keeps him standing when he feels like he might collapse. There’s a rightness about the sense of purpose it gives her that outstrips everything else.

 

Even her mission behind the mask.

 

This, right here... This is who she’s meant to be.

 

“I love you,” she whispers. Saying that never gets old. “I’ve got you. Let’s get inside, okay?”

 

He nods. The sharp points of his scruff scrape over her skin as he presses his lips to her shoulder. It’s not quite a kiss. It’s more of an exhale of strain than anything else. But it’s every bit as meaningful and intimate.

 

When he finally pulls back, the pain in his eyes hits like a physical blow.

 

“Come on,” she urges, taking his keys from his hands before lacing their fingers together. She brings them up to kiss his knuckles. Will watches like he can’t comprehend what she’s doing or why, like this is completely foreign to him. That thought hurts. Who’s filled this role for him in the years past? Who’s been his support when he feels like he might fall?

 

She wonders if anyone has.

 

Amelia unlocks the door and leads him inside, tugging him in by his hand. It’s dark and she flips the light on. He obviously didn’t clean the space before heading out to see Beth. She bites her lip at the nearly-empty whisky bottle and the knocked over tumbler on the coffee table. She doesn’t say anything about it, though. Not now.

 

“I’m going to get you a glass of water,” she says, letting go of him to head into the kitchen.

 

“Probably a good idea,” Will admits. His voice is dull, a little distant, and it worries her more. It makes her wish she were still holding him. “Can’t quite shake this headache.”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says softly, glancing at him as he collapses onto one of the barstools at his kitchen island and leans against his elbows. He shuts his eyes and presses his fingers to them so hard his nails turn white. “You take anything for it?”

 

“Ibuprofen. When I woke up.” He sighs, looking up. “Probably could use more by now.”

 

She nods and opens the cabinet where he keeps his medicines on the top shelf above the glasses. She grabs him a couple caplets and hands them to him with a full glass of water. “Sip it slowly,” she advises. “But finish it.”

 

The way he quirks his eyebrow at her in disbelief at the order is a welcome sight. It’s a sign of life, of something beyond sorrow and trauma.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Amelia amends.

 

“Well, since you asked nicely,” he says, taking a sip of the water and swallowing the pills. Setting the glass back down with a clink against the counter, Will presses his thumbs to his own temples, rubbing circles against them before looking at her. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Amelia rounds the kitchen island to join him. “Let me do that,” she whispers, stepping behind him and pushing his hands away from his head to take over rubbing his temples.

 

With a groan, Will’s hands drop to the counter as he gives himself over to her ministrations. He sighs and the tension drains out of him in one big whoosh, his shoulders falling. He leans back into her, letting her bear more of his weight, and she takes all of it. The difference between how he looked minutes ago staring at her in the hallway and now, with his eyes shut and his head tilted back against her, is dramatic.

 

And _she’s_ the difference.

 

God, she’s so glad she came.

 

She moves to rub his neck and shoulders and he sighs again, but there’s a slight whimper on the tail of it this time as she starts loosening knots. The nervous tension living in her skin since they texted earlier eases away, her anxiety loosening as his muscles do. She’d known that she needed to be here today. She just hadn’t realized how much.

 

With a sigh, Amelia rests her chin on his shoulder, letting one hand drape down his chest, one palm pressing over his heart as the other encompasses his shoulders. He tilts his head to the side to rest against hers. She kisses his scruff before resting her cheek against his shoulder.

 

“How’s Beth?” she asks.

 

“Good,” Will replies, closing his hand over hers where it rests against his chest and stroking his thumb over hers. “Trouble.”

 

She chuckles. “Yeah? Seems like that’s pretty normal for her.”

 

“You have no idea,” he says. That’s a very true statement, but now’s not the time to bring it up. “She tried to convince me to buy her a three-scoop ice cream today. I have no idea where her negotiating skills came from, but they’re terrifying.”

 

“Did you cave?”

 

“No,” Will tells her. “I’m not exactly new at this.”

 

“I know,” Amelia says, her voice rich with approval. “You’re good with her, you know. She’s lucky to have you. And so am I.” He swallows hard, not answering. “We _are_ ,” she emphasizes.

 

“Glad you think so,” he says.

 

Amelia frowns. It’s not exactly an argument, but it definitely leaves her with no ground to stand on.

 

“Will…”

 

He turns his head and kisses her. The angle is awkward, but he doesn’t seem to care. It’s soft and genuine, and it lingers with words he won’t say. She releases his shoulders to touch his face as they kiss, wishing she could make him feel what she’s feeling, that she could make him understand.

 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Amelia says against his lips. The breath of air he exhales sounds almost like a laugh. “You _are_ , Will. You make me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself. I feel more like the me I want to be when I’m with you. You bring me peace and joy. And you look at me with so much love that I _feel_ it.”

 

“Good,” he says, but his tone is off. Way off. “I don’t know how I do that for you, but you deserve it and more.”

 

“Just by being you,” Amelia says, offering him an affectionate smile. “That’s all I’ve ever needed from you.”

 

Will’s lips tremble and he presses them together tightly, biting them as his eyes dart over her face. He looks almost scared before seemingly catching himself. With a sigh, he gives her a light grin and she offers him a soft smile in return.

 

“What do you need?” she asks, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” he says immediately. His breath is shaky. “No, I can’t.”

 

“Okay,” she agrees. “If that changes, I’m right here.”

 

“You don’t need any part of this,” he says. It’s so quick, so off-the-cuff that for a stark second it feels like WIll at his most honest. “You don’t deserve to have to carry it.”

 

“Will,” Amelia breathes, her heart breaking. “Honey, neither do you.” He drops his gaze back down to the counter and she has to grit her teeth to keep from screaming. She doesn’t know how to make him see it. She takes a seat on the barstool next to him and cups his face with both hands, staring him in the eye. “You cannot save everyone, Will. No one can.”

 

“I know,” Will replies. The words ring hollow, like he knows it logically, but emotionally it’s a different story.

 

“Anything you’re carrying is something I’m carrying, too,” she tells him. He flinches away from her with a tiny jerk that makes her hold onto him tighter. “It’s true, Will. We’re in this together, my love.”

 

“That’s… No, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

 

“Like you shouldn’t have to deal with me sitting in a police station waiting to give a statement about almost being murdered?” she asks.

 

“That’s different.”

 

“Yeah?” she challenges, tilting her head to the side. “How?”

 

She expects some kind of admission on his part, some sort of realization that she’s right. But she doesn’t get it. Instead he gets very quiet.

 

A haunted look fills his eyes as he stares at her for a beat, before he covers her hands where they rest against his face and pulls them away. A fissure of uncertainty rattles through her chest and she has to force herself to stay still. He sets her hands against his knees, holding them there. The distance in his eyes grows even more as his gaze switches to stare over her shoulder.

 

“The first patient I ever lost was a heart attack,” he says, his voice so soft it’s barely audible over the thrum of her heart. “Late fifties. Two kids in college and a wife of thirty years at home. He had their pictures in his wallet. I was the same age as his older girl. I know because after he died I spent two weeks looking for articles about what happened. There wasn’t much. It was just a heart attack. Those happen every day.”

 

Amelia’s heart squeezes and tears burn her eyes, but she blinks them away, gripping his hands harder. That man could easily have been her father. The college girl whose photo was kept in his wallet could have been her.

 

He still doesn’t look at her.

 

“First kid we lost was a drowning. We thought we’d saved her. We had her breathing on her own by the time we got to the hospital. But her mind was already gone and she only lasted another three days. Her name was Ruby and she had bright red hair, even though it was all wet.” Will swallows hard and finally looks back at her. “They stay with you. Years later. Decades later. You play it back in your head. You wonder what you could’ve done differently, how you could’ve saved them. You think about how that man should be holding his first grandkid by now and how that little girl should be the same age as your baby sister, complaining about school switching to a year-round schedule and shuffling between soccer meets and ballet recitals in her free time. And you know that them being gone means there’s a hole in their families that’s never gonna fill up. Part of you wonders if it’s your fault. If you’d done CPR a little longer, or gone with one medicine instead of the other, or done the trach sooner… Would they still be alive?”

 

Tears fill Amelia’s eyes and she bites her tongue to keep them at bay. How does he bear it? How does he carry this around with him every day?

 

“What would you say to Alex?” she asks, her voice uneven. “Or Javi, or Sara, if they said this to you? What would you say to your dad if he did?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Will replies. His eyes beg her to understand and it has more tears burning hers. She’s trying. _God_ , she’s trying. He abandons one of her hands to cover his heart, to cover the aching weight that sits there. “It still doesn’t take _this_ away.”

 

All the words she wants to say stay trapped on the tip of her tongue. This is too important to try and explain away in an effort to ease the load he bears. The weight of it lingers in the air around them as Will’s hand drops back to hers. He covers it, squeezing it against his knee like he’s the one trying to offer comfort here. She almost laughs. This is too big for a simple conversation.

 

“Will, have you… Have you ever talked to anyone about this? Anyone at all?”

 

He shakes his head and her heart sinks. “It’s just part of the job. We suck it up and move on. We live with it. That’s just how it goes. Sometimes it’s hard, that’s all.”

 

“Okay,” she agrees, nodding slowly. “I get that you have to live with what you’ve seen and there are always going to be moments you second guess your own actions. But you shouldn’t have to cope with all of that alone.”

 

A small smile curves his lips as he looks down at their hands. “You’re a remarkable woman, Amelia,” Will says, flipping her hands to trace the lines of her palms. “To put up with this... To try and take some of it on yourself, even.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Amelia tells him. He huffs out a tiny noise and she curls her hands to mimic his, her fingers stroking his palms. “You’re a good man with a good heart. And it’s going to hurt when you have losses. You can’t avoid that. But I think what you do is incredible and _brave_. I know you’re focused on all the lives you’ve lost right now, but I wish you could remember all the ones you’ve saved, all the families that are whole today because of you. That’s an amazing thing. I have a hard time imagining someone who wouldn’t want to support you through that.”

 

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, that only makes you more remarkable because that definitely has not been my experience.”

 

Annoyance has her digging her teeth into her tongue. The idea that someone - that _anyone_ \- might leave Will hurting and not be there for him when they could be goes against everything in her heart and in her head.

 

“Lots of girls like the idea of dating a firefighter,” Will admits, his lips pulling up in a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s the uniform, I guess. But the reality of it means a lot of lonely nights and missed holidays. And _this_. Bringing home the losses that stick with you. That’s hard on anyone. It’s more than most people bargain for... And then there’s the ones who don’t think being a firefighter is good enough in the first place.”

 

Amelia’s back goes ramrod straight as she squares her shoulders. “Who the hell thinks being a firefighter isn’t good enough?” she demands.

 

He chuckles weakly. “Someone who married a doctor, apparently. Someone who makes a _real_ difference.”

 

“Well, congrats to him for having patients only after you save their lives in the first place,” she snaps.

 

A full-blown grin covers his face at the proclamation as he meets her gaze again. “He’s a pediatrician,” Will tells her. “I’m not sure we work with the same people, but I appreciate your staunch defense.”

 

“So he books appointments six weeks out to give booster shots and takes some same-day cases for strep swabs,” Amelia says. “That’s _totally_ more important… in no way whatsoever.”

 

Will laughs and leans in to kiss her with smiling lips. “Goddamn, I love you. Between you and Beth, I worry for the world whenever you think someone insults me.”

 

“I knew I liked her,” she replies, giving him a peck. “So, Beth knows this ex?”

 

It’d be a lie to say she isn’t remembering Will’s insistence that he’d never introduced his sister to any of his girlfriends. It’d be an even bigger lie to say she doesn’t wait with bated breath, half of her preparing for a swift kick to the heart.

 

“No. Ran into her today when I was out with Beth, actually,” Will tells her. “Almost literally, which could’ve been a mess because there was ice cream involved.”

 

Amelia grimaces. Running into an ex is always awkward, but considering the day Will’s had, she imagines it was worse than your standard fake smiles and half waves.

 

Will shrugs. “I haven’t seen her since we broke up back in college, but we were together for a year. She dumped me when I told her I wanted to be a firefighter instead of going into sports medicine. It was right before I met you, actually.”

 

Sports medicine. Amelia tries to picture Will in a baseball clubhouse tending to players’ injuries and working out training regimens. She pulls a face at the idea. “I can’t see you being happy in that career,” she tells him. “You were meant for more than that. You were meant for more than _her_.”

 

There’s a light in his eyes as he smiles. “Yeah, I was,” Will agrees. “I was meant for you.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

He chuckles. “Beth agrees, by the way,” he adds. “She threatened to put sugar in Allison’s gas tank and made a big deal about getting your favorite ice cream for you.”

 

Amelia perks up. “Cookie dough?”

 

“Sorry,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. “She guessed strawberry, but it would’ve melted by the time I got home anyhow.”

 

“Well,” Amelia says, dragging her fingers up his forearms. “That can be fun, too.”

 

He groans, his eyes darkening slightly. “Honey…”

 

“Mm,” she hums. “So can honey.”

 

“ _Amelia_.”

 

“What?” she asks innocently, but the tug of her lips gives her away. “I’m just saying…”

 

“Oh trust me, I will not be forgetting this,” he replies before sighing. “But for now, I just…”

 

“Need to decompress,” Amelia finishes. “I get it.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, rubbing his thumbs against her knees like a worry stone. His eyes stay locked on hers, though, and it feels like a small victory. They’re clearer than before, brighter. A swell of pride grows within her that she helped, that somehow he’s a little bit better, even if just a little. “So what’d you do today?”

 

“Pretended to work, mostly,” she admits, wrinkling her nose. “I was slightly distracted.”

 

“By me?”

 

“You’re very distracting, Will Queen. Do you not know that?”

 

Her tone is light and playful, aiming to keep the mood easy and carefree. If there’s any heaviness to their conversation, she wants it to be because he needs to deal with things, not because she introduced it.

 

It works, for the most part.

 

Will smiles and quirks an eyebrow at her. “I do know that, actually, but usually it requires my charming presence.”

 

“Mm, that’s what you think,” she replies, crossing her legs. She traps the tips of his fingers beneath her knee and the look he gives her is a warning laced with a little bit of interest, despite himself. “Daydreaming about you has driven me to distraction for many years.”

 

“Should I apologize for that?”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Amelia says. “Thinking about you has always been the best part of my day.”

 

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome,” Will says with a toothy grin. It fades a little the instant it appears, but it doesn’t dissolve completely, nor does the quiet gratitude for the levity shining through. “Kinda guessing it wasn’t that sort of distraction today, though.”

 

“No,” she admits. “Not today. Today I was worried about you. And, to be honest, I was a little worried about me.”

 

Will frowns, and he can’t hide the alarm that shades his eyes. “What do you mean? Why?”

 

Amelia bites her lip. She stares at him for a beat, wondering how much she should tell him right now, before letting out a loud sigh. Uncrossing her legs, she plants her elbow on the counter and drops her head to rest against her knuckles. Her eyes never leave his as she thinks through her words, knowing he’s going to be upset no matter how she phrases things.

 

“Moira dropped by my apartment last night.”

 

Will’s jaw tightens and he straightens his back, his eyes turning wary. He and his grandmother might have recently had a brief conversation where they saw things similarly for once, but that doesn’t change a lifelong strained relationship.

 

She doubts anything will.

 

“Okay,” he says. “Why?”

 

Amelia braces herself. “To tell me I’m being followed.”

 

“ _What_?” Will jolts and leaps to his feet, instantly towering over her.

 

“We’re fine,” she tells him, touching his arm, but it does nothing to calm him.

 

“Pretty sure you just said the opposite,” Will snaps. “Who’s following you? Why?”

 

“That gets a bit complicated,” Amelia admits, smoothing her hand up and down his arm. “Honey, come on. Sit.”

 

He clenches his jaw, but he does as she says, albeit in jerky motions that tell her he doesn’t want to. She sighs. All the hard work she’d done on his shoulders a few minutes ago comes undone in an instant as he scoots his stool closer to her, damn near crowding her against the kitchen island.

 

“What the hell did Moira say?” Will demands.

 

Amelia slides her hand down to grip his fingers in hers. “She’s had people watching me. So has Domino, the interim mayor, Senator Powers, the defense attorney for the trial, and ARGUS.”

 

The muscle in his jaw twitches. “ _ARGUS_?”

 

“I already talked to Digg and Lyla,” Amelia says. “They’re looking into it, but they’re pretty sure it’s just a low level thing. They’re keeping tabs on me. Probably because they know I’m Providence.”

 

His eyes flare as he glances around. “Should you be saying that out loud right now?”

 

“We’re safe,” she promises. “I talked to your dad and Felicity last night. They did a sweep of the lair, my office, my house, my car, and the brownstone, just to be safe. Felicity’s confident the only bugs were in my office. That’s good enough for me.”

 

He doesn’t relax at all. “Do we know who bugged your office?”

 

“No, but my money’s on Senator Powers. Especially after talking to Moira.”

 

Will stares at her, his breathing growing heavy before he scrubs his face with his free hand.

 

“Listen,” he says, his arm dropping to the counter with a thud. “She and I have our problems, but if she can help here, I’m all for it. I’m not gonna pass up any resources we have to keep you safe. That said, how much can we trust her?”

 

“I don’t know,” Amelia admits. “But the bug panned out and so does our initial intel about Powers. He definitely has presidential aspirations and he has a long history of smothering progress until he can take credit for it. Felicity’s running a more detailed search now and Ellie was going to arrange a meeting with him about foundation work to try and get a bug on his phone.”

 

“Wow.” Will shakes his head, sitting back with a sigh. “Seems like my whole family’s on board with these plans before you even clued me in to them.”

 

Amelia scowls. “You were at work,” she reminds him. “There was nothing you could have done at the time. I took steps to secure my own safety. And, honestly Will, I’d expect you to do the same. You don’t get to hold that against me.”

 

He deflates a little at that. “Fine. Yeah, you’re right.” With a ragged sigh, he drags his hand through his hair. “I’m just…”

 

“I know,” she says, her free hand finding his shoulder and squeezing. “Me too.”

 

“I get Domino having you followed,” Will admits. “As awful as it is, I get why he would do that. He scares the shit out of me, Amelia. And I get the defense attorney. He’s gotta be looking for any edge to win his case. I even sorta get Moira, Senator Powers, and ARGUS, for their own reasons. But the interim mayor?”

 

Amelia hesitates before answering. “One of the last things Mayor Lance talked to me about was her concerns with others angling for the mayor’s office. I can’t prove anything, but I’d guess he works with Domino.”

 

Will flinches, his breath catching as he tries to process that. It’s a big, dark idea. They’re already up against so much right now in their efforts to save the city and bring justice to the streets. If the mayor is against them, too…

 

“Fuck,” he mutters.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “The upside is that it doesn’t seem as though anyone except ARGUS has been clued into my other identity. I’m careful when I go to headquarters. The way I found you made it obvious that was necessary. Felicity’s reviewing the garage tapes, but last I heard from her there was no sign that I was actually followed _into_ the parking garage.”

 

“How the hell didn’t we notice people following you?” Will shakes his head. “How’d that get past us?”

 

As bad as it is, the reason is simple and she smiles. “Because when it’s you and me, the rest of the world fades away, my love. It always has.”

 

Will’s face softens. “Yeah. But, Amelia, we need to be more careful.”

 

“I know. And we will be. I’m not taking chances with my safety. I promise.”

 

“Good,” he says. His voice is rough and for a moment, she wonders if he’s remembering some awful scene he’s had to attend to before, if he’s seeing her as one of the people he couldn’t save. “Good. Because I can’t lose you. I refuse to.”

 

“You won’t.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

She’s late.

 

Grumbling under her breath, Amelia pushes her car to go a bit faster. She isn’t the sort of person who runs late for things. And, of course, the one time she’s a bit behind schedule is the day she’s meeting Jules. She has good reasons, at least. She and Will stayed up late talking and holding each other in the aftermath of his brutal day. That alone made it worthwhile, but the fact that she’d also gotten a few glimpses inside his head about what happened at work and how he was dealing with it made it worth all the more.

 

She doesn’t regret it in the least.

 

That said, she’s pretty sure Jules is the sort of person who will not-so-subtly rib her over and over about showing up late. Especially since this is the first time her boyfriend’s sister has invited her anywhere that didn’t require a sword and mask.

 

Her impatient anxiety doesn’t fade when she pulls up at the address Jules gave her.

 

Amelia stares at the little shop. Is this right? Is Jules pranking her?

 

Or maybe she’s just an idiot for thinking she’d be meeting a Queen someplace like Nordstrom or Lord & Taylor to shop for dresses...

 

Amelia takes a moment to fix her hair and reapply lipstick before heading toward the small shop. She’s a little out of her element here, and by a little, she means a lot. But if she’s late, she’s damn well going to look presentable at least.

 

Ignoring the jittery sensation skirting across her skin, Amelia strides into the small storefront with her head held high and a slim smile.

 

A woman with shockingly stylish clothes, blunt bangs, and sharp bob cut to her jet-black hair meets Amelia just inside the threshold to the shop, before the bells announcing someone’s arrival have even stopped chiming.

 

“Hi,” Amelia says, glancing around. “I’m meeting Jules here?”

 

“Oh! You must be Amelia,” the woman replies, her face lighting up on a smile. “I’m Alice. The family’s personal shopper. She’s just stepped into the fitting room with the first round of items I selected for her.”

 

Amelia barely keeps her jaw from dropping, first at the idea that the family has their own personal shopper, but also that she’s somehow still shocked. She knows this world. She’s _worked_ in this world. You don’t share an office with Moira Queen and not get a taste of it. But it still feels foreign.

 

It takes her a second to realize her surprise is because of Will. Low-key, easygoing Will, who acts like his family isn’t worth billions.

 

“First round?” Amelia asks, shrugging out of her coat. Okay, it’s technically Will’s coat, but it’s hers now. Alice waves at the elegant hooks near the door. She hangs it and her purse up. “How many rounds does it usually take?”

 

“With Jules?” The woman gives a delicate snort. “Can I get you a glass of champagne? A bite to eat?”

 

“Uh…” Amelia says, feeling even more out of her element.

 

Jules strides out of the fitting room before Amelia can reply. The dress she wears is stunning, but it doesn’t suit her in the least.

 

“I don’t do ruffles,” she announces, giving Alice a sharp look before glancing at Amelia. “This is absurd, right? Hi, by the way.”

 

“Hi. It’s not you,” Amelia agrees before tilting her head to the side. “It’s cuter on you than I’d have expected, though, given that you’re not the ruffles sort.”

 

“There’s leather trim, Julianna,” Alice scolds. “It’s not like I put you in a tiered princess dress. Give me a little credit.”

 

Jules’ face is all snark, sharply contrasting the dress she wears. “Then give me fewer ruffles.”

 

“Alright, alright. “Alice huffs, rolling her eyes. “At least I got you to try it on.”

 

“That’s how you know I _do_ give you credit,” Jules points out. Alice presses her lips together like she’s trying to trap her patience within her. Jules turns to a series of mirrors and waves at herself. “Just not this much. I can already tell you I’m not going to like the peach one, either. I’m too pale for that.”

 

“Try it on?” Alice asks. “See what your friend thinks?”

 

It takes Amelia a moment to realize Alice means her.

 

“Won’t hurt anything to try it on,” Amelia says.

 

With an exasperated sigh, Jules rolls her eyes and turns back to the large fitting room with dramatic flair, apparently relenting.

 

“I do love that you have that perspective,” Alice tells her. The woman’s eyes drift down her form. Amelia does a double-take at the wolfish, delighted grin that covers the other woman’s face. “I have a few pieces that I think would suit you incredibly well.”

 

“Oh, I’m not-”

 

“Don’t listen to her!” Jules shouts before poking her head back out the fitting room door. “She’s my brother’s girlfriend. Like the heart-eyed, swoony kind that’ll probably have vow renewals every decade or something. She’s gonna need fancy stuff sooner or later.”

 

Amelia lets out a shrill laugh. “ _Vow renewals_?”

 

Jules laughs to herself. Or maybe it’s more at Amelia, judging by the way she grins. “I think we all know what path you two are on.”

 

“It’s not casual, if that’s what you mean,” Amelia allows.

 

“Obviously,” Jules snorts, ducking back into the fitting room. She tosses the ruffled dress over the top of the door. “Why do you think you’re here?”

 

Alice snags the dress and hangs it up on a cushioned hanger before zippering it into a garment bag.

 

“I have some lovely vintage pieces in the back,” the woman says. “I always try to get Julianna to try on newer fashions first, even if I know we’ll wind up turning to those. But with you…” she pauses, tapping a blood-red polished nail against her lips as she appraises Amelia’s figure. “I’m inclined to start with vintage straight away. Between your height and your hourglass shape, you belong in something a starlet might’ve worn a hundred years ago. Give or take a decade or two.”

 

“Well,” Amelia says, rubbing her hands against her thighs. “I said it wouldn’t hurt to try something on, didn’t I? Uh, my size is-”

 

“Oh, _darling_.” Alice laughs as she touches Amelia’s arm. “Oh, it’s adorable you think I need to be told. How charming. I’ll be back in a few moments. I need to consult my records and find the right pieces for you. I trust you’ll make sure Julianna tries on that blush-colored dress?”

 

“It’s _peach_!” echoes from Jules’ fitting room.

 

Amelia bites her lips together. “I will do my very best.”

 

With a sigh of, “I suppose that will have to do,” Alice turns and heads to the back. She pushes a large door that opens into a near-endless closet. “Ring the bell if you need anything.”

 

Amelia chews on the inside of her lips as she looks around. She hadn’t been planning on trying anything. But, it might be fun, even if she’s positive everything here will be outside her current budget. Maybe she can find something to send Will a selfie that will knock his socks off.

 

Jules pokes her head out again. “Are you gonna get in here and help me with this stupid blush dress or not?”

 

“I thought it was peach,” Amelia replies, moving to the fitting room.

 

A smirk tugs at Jules’ lips. “It ticked Alice off that I disagreed with her about the color, so I kept doing it,” she says, stepping back into the room as Amelia joins her. Of course she did, Amelia thinks, taking in the scene. The room itself looks nothing like most fitting rooms she’s been in. For one, it’s the size of a modest bedroom. It’s also clean, decorated, and brightly lit. It’s a far cry from the department store experience she’d expected. But she ignores the space itself and turns her attention to Jules. She has most of the blush dress on, but the closure laces up.

 

Jules meets her gaze in the mirror with a challenging smile. “You’ve got more experience with corset tops than I do.”

 

“They do take practice,” Amelia replies, tightening the laces with a firm hand that knocks the wind out of Jules. “Breathing in them takes practice, too.”

 

“I cannot begin to imagine how you fight in something like this,” Jules says with a strained gasp.

 

“Different boning in them, I suspect,” Amelia says. “Different neckline, too.” She ties off the closure and steps back to take in the effect of the dress. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s lovely.”

 

Jules sighs, running her fingers down the lines of the top. “I know. It even fits well. But it’s just not _me_.”

 

She has a point. There’s an ethereal quality about the dress that would look amazing with some color on her cheeks and shimmer on her skin, but Jules isn’t the ethereal sort. She’s presence and attitude.

 

“Maybe for the right event?” Amelia suggests.

 

“It’s the wrong image,” Jules replies. She appraises herself with a shrewd air that Amelia’s never seen on the other woman. “Public persona is important.”

 

“You sound like Moira,” Amelia tells her without thinking about it.

 

Jules’ eyes lift in surprise, meeting Amelia’s in the mirror again. “Maybe a little,” she admits. “She’s a raging bitch, but she’s not wrong about _everything_.”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia agrees quietly. She’d prefer not to think too deeply about that right now. It’s been less than two days since her chat with the estranged Queen matriarch about being followed and she’s already tired of looking over her shoulder.

 

“We’ll nail their asses to the wall,” Jules says, reading Amelia’s expression correctly as she tugs loose the ties to her dress and steps out of it. “You know that right?”

 

“It’s what we do.”

 

Jules nods before grabbing the next piece, a silver thing with a slit that looks like it goes all the way up to the hip. If anyone could pull off that look, it’s Jules. But, as she said earlier, public image sets expectations. Her persona is established and, for Jules especially, it’s part of her brand.

 

“Was it hard for Alex?” Amelia asks. Jules pauses after dragging the fabric over her head, casting a questioning look to Amelia. “The public persona thing, I mean. You’ve grown up with it. I suppose you’re used to projecting a certain image.”

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s always easy,” Jules says, shimmying into the dress. There is no closure on this one. It’s a startling look, one that’s far more revealing than Jules veers toward. Checking herself out in the mirror, Jules adds, “Not for him and not for me.”

 

“What do you mean? How isn’t it easy for you?”

 

“Are you asking for yourself?” Jules asks, turning to her with piercing eyes that seem to look right through her. “Or are you asking because of Will?”

 

Amelia purses her lips. She forgets sometimes how clever Jules is. She’s loud and brash and bold, but she sees _everything_ , absorbs it all, and she only acts when she has reason to. People seem to think Nate’s the clever one - and he is, in a book-smart and analytical way - but, Jules has a cleverness that slips under the radar, one you don’t notice until it’s too late.

 

Sometimes she’s very much her father’s daughter.

 

“Both, I suppose,” Amelia says.

 

Jules hums and sits in one of the fitting room’s wingback chairs. She rests her chin against the curve of her knuckles as she looks up at Amelia, leveling her with a scrutiny that leaves her unsettled.

 

Which is definitely the point.

 

“He’s not like me,” Jules finally says. “I say what I think. Sometimes I go a bit over the top because it’s fun. Sometimes I do it because it’s a great distraction. Will’s the opposite. He puts the focus on everyone else to hide himself. He always has.”

 

Amelia’s eyes widen. She bites her tongue to keep from saying anything, waiting for more.

 

“I know you’ve noticed,” Jules tells her, leaning back in the chair. It’s lazy and regal all at once, which is fitting. “Sometimes that means making a joke at his own expense or teasing one of us until we smile. Sometimes it means kissing his girlfriend until she forgets he hasn’t introduced her to his baby sister, even though he’s more or less a parent to her.”

 

Fighting to keep her breathing even, Amelia wraps her arms around her middle. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because I think he’s lying,” Jules says, pushing herself out of the chair. “I think he’s hiding from himself. And I think you love him as much as I do. I’m worried about him, Amelia... And I can see you are, too.”

 

No, Julianna Queen isn’t just her father’s daughter. Amelia’s never seen anyone look quite so much like Moira Queen in her life.

 

“This is why I’m here,” Amelia realizes. “This is why you invited me.”

 

Jules gives her a thin smile. “Well, I do need a dress, too.”

 

Part of Amelia wants to confide everything in Jules, to look at her as an ally, as someone else who loves Will, who cares about him. But there’s a delicate balance here. It’s one thing to tell Maggie nearly everything. It’s a whole other thing to share Will’s secrets with his sister. And the stark truth of the matter is that as much as Amelia knows Will loves her, he’s only just begun to _trust_ her. At least on the things that really matter. That’s not something she can jeopardize.

 

“He talks to me,” Amelia allows after a moment. “It’s not all distractions to avoid facing things, like you said. He confides in me, too.”

 

Jules’ face is carefully blank. “About getting shot? What does he say?”

 

Amelia flinches. “I can’t answer that. You know I can’t.”

 

Jules sighs in reply. “It sucks, but I actually like you better for that answer.”

 

“I did…” Amelia shakes her head before continuing again. “I did want to ask you something, though. Between you and me.”

 

Jules raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she waits.

 

“From one woman who loves a firefighter to another,” Amelia starts, swallowing and licking her suddenly dry lips. “How do you help after the hard days?”

 

Understanding washes over Jules’ face. Her features soften as she lets her arms drop to her side. “Kids always get to him.”

 

Amelia’s not sure if the ‘him’ she refers to is Alex or Will, but she supposes it doesn’t matter.

 

“Look,” Jules says, running a hand through her hair. “All of us live lives where we lose people. You haven’t had much of that yet, but you will. It sucks. And you’ll play it back in your head over and over until you go crazy, wondering how you could’ve done things differently. We all do.”

 

“So, how do you deal with it?”

 

“Me? I paint. I mess around with my dogs. I train harder. Sometimes I cry in the shower. Sometimes I call my dad or lean on Alex. But in the end, I can’t change the past, so I have to accept it and move on. It still _costs_ , but that’s something you carry with you instead of letting it weigh you down.”

 

“I’m not sure painting would work for me or Will.”

 

“Alex prays,” Jules adds. “Says the rosary and the whole bit. He goes to confession, too. He doesn’t talk about what we do under the masks. He keeps it vague. But he’s done that since he started on the truck. For him, it helps. It might help you, too. Won’t do much for Will, though.”

 

“No,” Amelia agrees. “It wouldn’t. He’s not much of a believer.”

 

“Sure he is,” Jules counters. “Just not in the same way you and Alex are. Not in the same way I am, either. But he talks to you, you said. So, I’d say he believes in _you_.”

 

Amelia frowns. “I can’t offer him absolution, Jules.”

 

“He doesn’t need any,” Jules replies, shaking her head. “He just needs someone he trusts to remind him he’s not perfect - that he can’t be - and that that’s okay.”

 

Brow furrowing, Amelia looks to her toes as she considers Jules’ words. It doesn’t feel like enough. _She_ doesn’t feel like enough. But maybe there’s a learning curve to this. Maybe it’ll get easier in time.

 

“If you’re not willing to fill that role for him, you should back out now,” Jules says.

 

Her voice is surprisingly non-judgmental, but Amelia’s head snaps up so fast it strains her neck. “Of course I am,” she says. “I just wish I was good enough at it that he believed me.”

 

“Losing that kid was real hard on him, huh?” Jules asks. A sympathetic pain shines in her eyes and Amelia knows it’s genuine. Jules might be cavalier about a lot of things, but not when it comes to Will. The bond between Will and the oldest of his sisters has always made Amelia wonder what it might’ve been like to grow up with siblings of her own. “It was rough on Alex, too.”

 

“She reminded him of Beth,” Amelia says.

 

Jules hisses through her teeth and shuts her eyes. “Damn.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Jules says, sighing as she comes to some sort of decision.

 

“What?” Amelia asks.

 

“If it’s too much,” she says, fixing her gaze firmly on Amelia’s eyes. “If he’s struggling and you can’t help enough, if he gets _worse_ , I need you to promise to tell me. He hasn’t and he’s brushed us off every time any of us have tried to talk to him. I’m not asking you to lie to him or to break his trust. But I’m worried about him. I love him. I’d fight anyone in the world for him. But there’s no one I can punch to fix this.”

 

Despite the topic, Amelia huffs out a laugh. Of course Jules would like to punch away a problem.

 

“You’re that worried?” Amelia asks, a little desperately. She’d tried so hard to convince herself she was making things worse than they are.

 

Sadness washes over Jules’ face and for a moment, she looks like a lost little girl.

 

“He got moody after he was shot,” she admits. “He pushed people away, didn’t want anyone visiting. Not even me. Getting him to go to physical therapy was a battle and it set him back a lot. He didn’t want help. He didn’t want to talk. He spent months just sitting on that ugly sofa of his watching that stupid soap opera he thinks none of us know he loves.”

 

A broken laugh falls from Amelia. “It really is terrible.”

 

“But the worst of it was when Sara got shot,” Jules confides. “He tried so _hard_ to pretend nothing was wrong. None of us believed it for a minute. Dad thinks maybe he had a flashback.”

 

Amelia tries not to flinch, but the memory of Will curled up in the corner of his room, covered in sweat and utter terror, is a little too sharp in her mind for that.

 

Jules sucks in a quick breath. “Oh... He swore it was just a nightmare.”

 

Pinching her lips together, Amelia averts her gaze. She’s not certain that the line between nightmares and flashbacks is quite as firm as Jules seems to believe. But she also won’t say a word about this. She _can’t_. Will would never understand.

 

“He’s okay,” Amelia says, meeting Jules’ eyes again, trying to project more certainty than she feels.

 

“Most of the time,” Jules amends.

 

Amelia nods faintly. “Most of the time.”

 

“You’ll tell me if it doesn’t stay that way?” Jules asks. It’s less of a question and more of a demand, but it’s an easy one to agree with.

 

Amelia nods. “You have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're at the halfway point??


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter! Um... don't get used to that. But enjoy the respite here.

Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months before Will registers it.

 

There’s a routine to their lives now, a set of expectations to their relationship. It still throws him sometimes when he stops and thinks about it. A nervous skitter of energy dances over his skin at the thought. He loves her. He _likes_ her. And he wants her. That’s always been true. But what’s new is how much he realizes he’s come to need and rely on her, too.

 

It worries him because sometimes he stops expecting her to leave. Maybe that should be a good thing, but when the gravity of it hits him, it always sets him on edge.

 

That said, he tries to push those thoughts aside and focus on the moment at hand.

 

Especially today.

 

Nate’s birthday was last week and Bethany’s is right around the corner. They have a lot of obligations in June and more on the horizon - the trial for Ketherington and Meyers has been set for August - but today it’s just about them.

 

Well, them and the Starling City Rockets trouncing her precious Central City Comets, no matter what she thinks is gonna happen.

 

He’s a little early to pick her up. It became a habit at some point, he realizes, to sit and wait while she gets ready. He sort of loves it. There’s something special about lounging on her bed and chatting with her as she puts on makeup or debates shoes. It’s easy. _Domestic_.

 

It’s startling how much he feels at home with her. It’s more startling how much he craves that feeling.

 

That thought circles him back to the quiet fears he keeps shoving away. And that’s exactly what he does right now, pushes it down where it’s little more than a dull whisper he ignores.

 

Will knocks on Amelia’s door, trying to focus on the day in front of them, on how much he’s looking forward to it. Thinking past that is too interlaced with complicated feelings. But this... This he can handle. He _wants_ to. He already knows exactly what to expect from today and that calms him.

 

And yet the sight that greets him when she opens the door has him blinking in surprise.

 

“You’re not my mama,” an irked-looking girl tells him from where she sits balanced on Amelia’s hip. She rests there like it’s completely natural, like she’s used to it. The image of Amelia with a child that’s the perfect mixture of _them_ in her arms hits Will hard, but he reels it in quickly. He regroups, swallowing hard and turning his attention to the toddler clinging to Amelia.

 

“I’m not?” he asks the little girl, offering her a challenging look. “Are you sure? You might be wrong.”

 

Amelia smothers a chuckle as the little girl gives him the most disbelieving look he’s seen on a toddler since Bethany was in diapers.

 

“You’re not a girl,” she replies.

 

Will gives her a confused look before patting his chest and glancing downward with a pout. “It appears you’re right.”

 

“Get in here,” Amelia says with a laugh, rolling her eyes as she pulls the door open wider. “Deedee, this is my very silly boyfriend, Will. Will, this is Maggie and Jer’s daughter, Deedee.”

 

“Auntie Amelia is watching me while Mama goes to the doctor to see how my new baby is doing,” Deedee informs him as he steps inside.

 

“Guess she’s running late,” Amelia adds. It sounds like an apology. It looks like one, too. He can see it all over her face as she gives him a chaste kiss before shutting the door behind him.

 

“We aren’t in a rush,” Will reminds her. “I’m early.” He turns to the little girl watching him curiously and offers his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Deedee.”

 

She’s a cautious child, watching him with deep suspicion in her dark eyes. Will instinctively doesn’t move, waiting patiently, giving her time to assess him and hoping like hell he passes her scrutiny. He seems to, because she leans into Amelia with a sigh before reaching out to grasp his fingers. “Yes, it is,” she announces.

 

Will barely stifles a laugh at her response, but he does grin at her. “So, you say you’ve got a baby on the way? Aren’t you a bit young for that?”

 

“My mama’s having the baby.” Deedee corrects. “But he’s mine, ‘cause he’s my brother. He just has to stay inside her while he’s growing because he’s not big enough to come out and play yet.”

 

“I see,” Will replies with a solemn nod. “Well, it’s very nice of your mother to help you with that.”

 

Deedee seems to realize he’s messing with her, but she also doesn’t appear to mind. “My mama’s a very nice person. Are _you_ a nice person?”

 

“I like to think so,” Will tells her. “Not nice enough to give birth to a baby brother for you, though. That’s an exceptional level of niceness.”

 

Deedee shakes her head at Amelia. “You’re right, Auntie Amelia, he’s _very_ silly.”

 

“The silliest,” she replies, tapping Deedee’s nose. “Think he could entertain you for a minute while I go change?” Worry colors the little girl’s face and her brow furrows deeply as she leans further into Amelia. She gives Will a wary glare as she sizes him up. “I’ll just be in the next room, my little love. I’m not leaving.”

 

Deedee purses her lips, not entirely convinced, but she does settle. “I guess so. As long as you’re _right there_.”

 

“Close enough I can see you,” Amelia vows. “Promise. I’ll even leave the door open a crack.”

 

“Okay,” Deedee agrees as Amelia sets her down. But the little girl doesn’t let go of her hand right away. Will wonders if she’s an especially clingy child, if she just really loves Amelia, or if she’s got an inordinate amount of ‘stranger danger’ instinct.

 

Amelia smiles and leans down to kiss the girl’s head. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asks Will as she stands back up. “I’d like to be ready to leave when Maggie gets here. Deedee’s a good kid. She doesn’t intentionally get into trouble, but she is curious and I don’t have my house baby-proofed, so…”

 

“No problem,” he agrees, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and tossing Deedee a grin. “We can talk about siblings.”

 

“What’s a sibling?” Deedee asks.

 

“It’s a fancy word for a brother or a sister.”

 

“I don’t have a sibling,” she corrects. “I have a brother.”

 

Amelia laughs and squeezes Deedee’s hand before letting go. “I’ll be right back,” she promises. She winks at Will before heading to her room. True to her word, she leaves the door cracked open. The look on Deedee’s face when she sees that screams of relief.

 

“You can ask me about little brothers and sisters,” Will says, making sure to create a wide berth for her as he moves to sit on Amelia’s sofa. “I’m kind of an expert.”

 

That grabs her interest. She watches him, keeping her distance. It’s clear that she’s unsure of him, so he just waits. He’s always been good with kids and he knows to give her some space, knows she’ll talk to him if she wants to. And, if she doesn’t, he isn’t about to push her.

 

To his delight, Deedee seems to give him a thumbs up as she climbs onto the other end of the sofa and faces him. Crossing her legs, she eyes him with curiosity as she plops her chin on a fist and asks, “How’d ya get to be a es-pert?”

 

“Practice,” Will answers. “I have three little sisters and one little brother.”

 

Her eyes bug out. “That’s _loads_! How do you all fit in the car?”

 

Will laughs. It’s so very childlike, so innocent. It reminds him of when Bethy was little, even if she was always a touch more manipulative than Deedee seems to be.

 

“Well, I’m a lot older than some of them,” he tells her. “I was in college when my littlest sister was born. So, I was basically a grown up when she was a baby.”

 

“Oh.” Deedee furrows her brow as she thinks about that. “I’m four. I’ll still be four when my baby’s born and that’s not grown up yet.”

 

“True,” Will agrees. “But this is your first brother or sister, right?”

 

“ _Brother_ ,” she huffs as she corrects him again, making a show of rolling her eyes. “But yes.”

 

“Then you won’t have too much trouble fitting in the car together, will you?”

 

She mulls that over and shrugs. “I guess not. I dunno how you took care of so many sisters _plus_ a brother. That sounds like loads of work.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Will agrees. “But my parents helped a little, so that made it easier. Also, being so much older almost made me like an uncle to the littlest one. Her name’s Beth.”

 

“Beth,” Deedee repeats, trying the name out.

 

“She turns eleven next week,” Will tells her. That hits him all over again. How the hell his Bethy is _eleven_ , he has no idea. “So, she’s seven years older than you.”

 

“You must be real old, then.”

 

“Positively ancient,” he agrees with a nod. There’s humor there that goes right over her head, but Will enjoys it immensely.

 

“You’re kinda like Beth’s uncle. An’ Auntie Amelia is kinda like my aunt. But she’s not my _real_ aunt,” Deedee tells him. “Neither is Auntie C.”

 

“It’s really very kind of you to allow them the title,” Will replies.

 

Deedee sighs and then she inches closer, near enough that the fabric of her skirt hits his leg. She looks up at him with a mixture of curiosity and tentative trust. She wants to lean against him, he thinks. She’s clingier than he’d thought. It’s cute, though. Not needy. And he’s charmed by her.

 

“My daddy says they’re not so much like real sisters ‘cause they don’t fight, but Mama says they kept the good parts and that’s what matters,” Deedee continues. “I’m glad I’m having a brother, ‘cause I don’t wanna fight.”

 

“My sisters don’t fight much. I think it isn’t the same with every family.”

 

“You _think_?” Deedee mocks. “Weren’t you a es-pert?”

 

Will grins. “Touché.”

 

“What’s _that_ mean?” Deedee asks. There’s a hungry curiosity in her eyes that Will’s starting to think is ever-present in the little girl.

 

“It means you have a good point.”

 

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” she asks, leaning her cheek against him. It’s acceptance, a signal she’s comfortable with him, and that’s something he takes a ridiculous amount of pride in. Will gives her a one-armed hug and she relaxes even more, warming up to him. He loves that, loves the way little kids feel secure in his presence, how they look at him like they can’t see any flaws. There’s something addictive about that and it hits him all of a sudden how much he’s missed this stage, now that Beth’s hurdling through her pre-teens. Deedee sighs. “How’d you protect so many sisters _plus_ a brother?”

 

“What do you mean?” Will asks, noting the way her voice has gotten quieter and how she curls up further into his side. He rubs her arm encouragingly.

 

“From bad stuff,” she says, grabbing his hand. She picks at his nails. “From scary stuff.”

 

“I guess it depends on what kind of scary stuff it is,” he tells her, giving it serious thought.

 

“Some kinds of scary stuff gives you nightmares,” Deedee says quietly. She drops his hand and climbs onto his lap. She purses her lips and looks up at him with real fear in her eyes. “I dunno how to keep my baby brother safe. I don’t want him to be scared like me.”

 

“You get scared?” he asks, tucking her flyaway dark hair behind her ear.

 

“Real bad sometimes,” she answers. “Tiny places and the dark are real bad. I got a foba.”

 

“Phobia,” Will corrects, smoothing more of her hair down. “Everybody has things that scare them, Deedee. That’s part of life. It’s your head’s way of telling you to be careful.”

 

“My head does it extra,” Deedee says in a tiny voice. But then she sits up taller with an emphatic sigh, like she needs him to know how important what she’s about to say is. “But Auntie Amelia makes it better ‘cause she _saved_ me and I know she could save me if more bad things happened.”

 

Understanding clicks in Will’s head. _Of course_. He’d known Amelia protected a little girl at City Hall and that it was a friend’s child’s. He’d even known that it was Maggie’s daughter. But he hadn’t grasped that _this_ was what she was talking about until just now.

 

His heart aches as the realization casts her clinginess in a whole new light.

 

Without even thinking about it, Will hugs her a little closer, wanting to shield her from the entire damn world.

 

“She makes the bad dreams go away,” Deedee mumbles.

 

“She’s pretty good at that, huh?” Will asks, stroking her hair. “Can I tell you a secret?”

 

“Okay,” Deedee says before popping her thumb into her mouth and sucking on it. She’s a little old for that, but it seems like a comfort thing and Will’s heart breaks that she’s already dealing with so much trauma.

 

“Sometimes she helps my bad dreams go away, too,” Will tells her.

 

Deedee stops sucking on her thumb, but she doesn’t pull it from her mouth as she gives him a disbelieving look.

 

“She does,” he insists. “I have really bad dreams sometimes and she helps me keep them away.” He touches her nose like he saw Amelia do. “And your baby brother is going to be so lucky to have someone who loves him and wants to keep him safe like you do, Deedee. Just like you and I are lucky to have your Aunt Amelia.”

 

“It’s a two-way street,” Amelia says softly.

 

Will looks up to find her leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, watching him and Deedee with gentle eyes and a small, dreamy smile. Any other time he might be distracted by her outfit - she’s in a Comets jersey and cut-off jean shorts that show off her long, toned legs. Her hair’s up in a ponytail that she’s looped through her ball cap. She’s about as stunning as he can ever remember her being.

 

But it’s the look in her eyes as she stares at him that sets his heart racing.

 

He wishes that feeling didn’t terrify him so much.

 

“I am beyond lucky to have my silly, amazing boyfriend and my beautiful, lovely, incredible little Deedee,” Amelia adds as Deedee hops off Will’s lap and scrambles over to her, reaching her arms up for Amelia to hold her. Will doesn’t take offense in the least. Given the choice, he’d pick Amelia, too. She swoops Deedee up, tickling her belly as the girl giggles. “All you’ve gotta do is be your wonderful self, little love. Your baby brother is so lucky to have you. Luckier than you’ll never know.”

 

She looks at Will as she finishes.

 

It feels like there’s more she wants to say, but the doorbell interrupts them. Amelia rushes to answer it and a tiny sigh of relief escapes Will. He’s not sure he’s ready for wherever that conversation was headed.

 

Maggie breezes into the room - as much as a woman at the start of her third trimester can really _breeze_ \- and her husband follows close on her heels. They don’t take long to gather up Deedee and her things, but they do take a moment to chat. Will finds he likes both of them. Maggie is as sharp, lovely, and loyal to Amelia as ever. And her husband seems to possess a sense of self-effacing humor and sheer absurdity that Will appreciates.

 

But then it shouldn’t be a surprise that Will likes Amelia’s friends. He likes _Amelia_ , after all. He has yet to find anything he doesn’t like about her. It makes sense that her taste in friends follows in that pattern.

 

They wind up getting to the game a few minutes before it starts.

 

Starling versus Central City is always a crazy game and this one proves no different. The crowd’s loyalty is nearly split in half and the teams are a great match. Amelia gets into an argument with the guy behind them who starts trash talking her favorite pitcher. It’s a thrilling thing to watch her utterly school the guy with her player’s stats. Will’s pretty sure that’s a bigger turn on than he should be sporting during a baseball game.

 

The teams are tied at the seventh inning and somehow Will and Amelia wind up on the kiss cam with the words, “House Divided!” flashing beneath their picture. The entire stadium roars for them to kiss.

 

Will doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

They’re already standing when he pulls her into his chest and dips her back before capturing her lips. The kiss is all heat and intensity that comes naturally to them. They’ll probably wind up in the gossip column or maybe even some sports blog tonight, but he doesn’t care. Not when Amelia moans and clings to him, kissing him back with a smile on her lips as everyone hoots and hollers around them. Her ball cap falls off, landing in a mess of someone’s spilled beer, but she doesn’t seem to give a damn about that.

 

In the end, her team wins in the eleventh inning.

 

He can’t be sad about it because she screams and does a little dance of overjoyed excitement. It’s a far better sight than his team taking to the field to congratulate hers. She’s all bright eyes and red cheeks as she bubbles with energy.

 

They barely make it back to his place before she has him pinned to the wall, tearing at his shirt.

 

She’s overwhelming in the best way possible. He _loves_ it. He loves how much her light shines on him, how it brings life to the darkest parts of himself. She’s joy and love and beauty personified. Some days all he can do is stand back and watch her, amazed that someone like her actually exists, that she chooses to be with _him_. But in the quiet moments, when he holds her before they fall asleep, it’s a little harder to ignore the voice in the back of his head reminding him he can’t offer her the same. Maybe he could have once, but not anymore.

 

And he knows it’s just a matter of time until she sees it.

 

Until then, though, he sleeps, wrapping her up in his arms, holding her for as long as he has her.

 

With sleep comes a blissful sense of disconnection. No nightmares haunt him, and when he wakes again, it takes him a moment to realize he’s not dreaming. He watches Amelia sleep, resting his hand against the dip of her waist. She hums, still gone to the world, but his touch has her burrowing closer to his warmth, letting out a contented sigh when she settles again.

 

He steals a few precious minutes to revel.

 

They’ve been together four months now. _Four months_. That blows his mind. He never thought they’d make it this far.

 

When the sun starts to color the sky, he slips from bed and heads to the kitchen to start breakfast and put on a pot of coffee. As cute as Amelia is all bleary-eyed before her first cup of scalding hot, black brew, she also tends to be grumpy.

 

He just wants to make her smile.

 

Will’s halfway through making a couple of omelets when her arms wrap around him from behind. He grins as she rests her cheek against his shoulder with a soft, “Morning,” in a gravelly voice. His heart skips a couple beats and he picks up her hand to kiss her fingers.

 

Moments like this are so natural, so perfect, that he almost believes they could last forever.

 

“Morning, beautiful,” he replies. “You sleep well?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia replies before yawning. Her jaw pops and she gives a full body shudder before stepping back. “Got cold without you there, though.”

 

“Go wrap yourself in a few blankets,” Will says, flipping an omelet. “This’ll be done in just a minute and I’ll join you with them.”

 

“Nope,” she counters, draping an arm around him and kissing the side of his neck. “Rather be cold with you than warm without you.”

 

He shakes his head with a quiet smile as she moves to get some coffee. As always, she opens up the wrong cabinet first. “Stupid mugs,” she grumbles when she realizes what she’s doing. Instead of finding coffee cups, she stares up at his spices and bottles of whisky. A tiny jolt has his heart stopping, but her gaze drifts right over his liquor supply as she huffs under her breath about moving the coffeemaker. He sighs as she shuts the door and grabs a mug from the correct cupboard before going back to the coffee pot.

 

Will flips off the burner and plates the eggs as she pours her coffee. He sets them aside before turning to look at her fully. Her hair’s a sloppy mess, still in a ponytail from yesterday, and she’s stolen one of his shirts.

 

She’s stunning.

 

Will’s smile turns lascivious. “You know, I’m more than willing to warm you up myself.”

 

She bites her bottom lip as she grins. “The eggs will get cold.”

 

“I have more eggs, Amelia,” he says. “I’ll buy a chicken, if you like. We can have an endless supply.”

 

Laughing outright, she takes one of the plates and presses a lingering kiss to his still-scruffy cheek. “There’s a joke about cocks in there somewhere…”

 

His grin just about takes over his whole damn face. “No more of those in the house,” he counters. “And, anyhow, that would do nothing to get us _eggs_.”

 

She winks and sips her coffee before heading over to his kitchen table. She curls up in one of the chairs, pulling her legs underneath her. He’s gotten so used to seeing her there, he realizes. She _fits_. She’s at home there.

 

Despite his chest squeezing almost too tight, he tells himself that’s a good thing.

 

He grabs his own plate and joins her. His hand finds her knee as they eat and he rubs his thumb against the thin fabric of her yoga pants, like he needs the tactile reminder that she’s really here. It’s soothing.

 

“Lair today?” she asks, leaning her cheek against her palm as she watches him. She’s still yawning and pauses to take another swig of her coffee before he even has a chance to answer.

 

“Yeah. We should,” he agrees, dropping his fork with a sigh. “We need to start working things out for the trial. We can’t get at those guys to interrogate them, but Domino either can’t or _won’t_ take them out either.”

 

“That’s something,” Amelia agrees in a somber voice. “We need them more or less in one piece if we’re going to get answers out of them.”

 

“Yeah, but we’re gonna have to do it in _court_.” Will winces. “And I don’t know how we do that.”

 

“Neither do I,” she admits. “But we have time and a hell of a lot of good people working on it.”

 

“I know,” Will says. “I do. I just worry about us even getting to that point. How long until Domino makes a move against you? Against the prosecutor? He’s been too damn quiet and it scares the hell out of me.”

 

“There are a hundred reasons I can think of right now that would explain that, and probably more that I’m not even considering.”

 

“Such as…?”

 

“Such as... What if there’s a power struggle going on in his organization?” Amelia guesses. “What if he’s hurt? What if he’s _dead_? What if Domino is three different people trading identities and working together?”

 

“That seems incredibly unlikely.”

 

“Maybe,” she admits, grasping his hand where it still rests on her knee. “But my point is that we don’t need to jump to the worst possible conclusions. We don’t know everything. There’s no use rushing to the end of a story still unfolding.”

 

The comment hits deeper than she realizes and Will’s eyes drop to the table. When he realizes what he’s done, he shrugs, smiling it away as he looks back up. But Amelia saw everything play out on his face.

 

“I know you, my love,” she says, leaning in to cup his cheek. She watches him with affection in her eyes as she shakes her head at him. “You’ve got to stop assuming the worst will happen. Sometimes it will, but that doesn’t mean you should spend every day dreading something that might never come to pass in the first place.”

 

“Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is raw. He tries to cover it again by picking up his coffee cup as he adds, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

 

Amelia smiles. “I usually am.”

 

It’s meant to be playful, but there’s too much internal chaos going on for him. So, he leans over and kisses her temple instead of replying with words. Touch grounds him, leaves him secure in her, in the here and now, like nothing else can.

 

But, the moment is broken when someone knocks on Will’s door.

 

They both look to the entryway with curiosity. It’s not exactly early anymore, but they aren’t expecting anyone.

 

It’s only when the visitor leans on the doorbell that Will realizes who it is.

 

“Damn,” he says, setting his cup down and moving to answer it in a few long, quick strides. Maybe it’s ironic that he’s so worried, given the conversation that was just interrupted, but he is anyhow.

 

Mostly because Beth has her own key.

 

Will yanks the door open and looks down to find his baby sister grinning up at him with bright, happy eyes. He takes all of her in, looking for wounds or tears or anything, but there’s nothing amiss. “Are you okay?” he demands.

 

“Peachy!” she replies, giving a dramatic flourish. “Happy birthday to me!”

 

He narrows his eyes. “Your birthday is in four days.”

 

“Sure,” Beth agrees with a shrug. “But I want my present now and I’ve never been good at waiting.”

 

An exasperated noise gets stuck in his throat as he rolls his eyes. “Does your father know you’re here?”

 

“Totally,” she says, but her smile tightens, giving her away. “I mean, mostly.”

 

“ _Bethy_.”

 

“You can text him!” she declares, as if that were open for debate. “I told him I was going for a bike ride. And I _did_. See? No lies.”

 

“Bethany, I swear to God…”

 

“I love you?” Beth replies, grinning with all her teeth as she shrugs up both shoulders until they’re touching her ears.

 

“Maybe I didn’t get you a birthday present yet,” Will says. “Did you ever think of that?”

 

“You did too,” she counters. And then she pauses, her eyes flickering past him. Her presence suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. Beth bites her lip as she says, “You got it months ago. You just wouldn’t let me meet her yet.” She looks past him and a riot of nerves flusters him as she gives a soft, vulnerable, “Hi,” in Amelia’s direction.

 

Amelia’s a ways behind him still, but he clearly hears her gentle, excited, “Hi,” in return.

 

Will freezes. That’s why Beth is here. That’s _entirely_ why she’s here. He’s put off her and Amelia meeting for months now. It was for Beth’s own good. He believes that and he’s stuck to his decision even knowing it hurt Amelia. He had to.

 

But when Beth puts her mind to something, she’s damned near impossible to stop.

 

Especially when she shows up unannounced first thing in the morning.

 

“Can I… Can I come in?” Beth asks. There’s a nervous edge to her voice that makes him sick to his stomach.

 

“It’s your house, too, Beth,” Will reminds her, his voice gruffer than he wants it to be. But that can’t be helped as he pulls the door open for her.

 

“Thank you,” she says. She stops long enough to give him a tight, brief hug before moving past him. She only has eyes for Amelia. He could fade into the woodwork and he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t even notice. “It’s nice to meet you,” Beth says, nervous energy buzzing all around her. “In person, I mean.”

 

Will swallows hard as he watches them. There’s really not much else he can do. But, Beth is reacting to Amelia precisely how he knew she would. She stares up at her with the same look on her face she’d had when she was four and he and David took her to the princess breakfast at Disneyland. She’d tugged on the end of Belle’s dress and told her they were just alike because her mommy had died, too. Will’s heart had shattered to pieces at that, and it’s on the brink of doing the same exact thing right now.

 

This should be a happy moment, he tells himself. He should be _glad_ this is happening.

 

But all it’s doing is terrifying the hell out of him.

 

Risk is natural in life. It’s necessary. He knows that, but that’s not going to stop him from steering Beth clear of it every single time he can. He should’ve prepared for this, he thinks. He should’ve found a way around it. Everything about Beth screams that she’s hungry for some kind of meaningful relationship with Amelia. Maybe she needs that. Maybe he underestimated how vitally she needed a woman in her life. In hindsight, he could’ve asked Jules to spend more time with her. Or Ellie. Or Felicity, even. But he hadn’t. And she hadn’t selected one of them to look at like they’re her own personal princess.

 

No, she’s picked Amelia.

 

“You too,” Amelia replies, swallowing and glancing at Will as she bites her lip. She’s trying to figure out what he expects here, what he’ll allow. It’s sweet, that she does that. But he’s no help. He’s at a loss of what to think, much less what to do. Amelia looks back at Beth and then shakes her head. “Look at you… Oh, how did you get this big?”

 

“I’m eleven this week,” Beth says, as if Amelia didn’t already know. “And all I wanted for my birthday was to meet you.”

 

Amelia presses her lips together and nods. “I’m honored. I’ve been wanting to meet you, too.”

 

“Really?” Beth asks, her whole face lighting up. Will treasures it as much as he fears it. “‘Cause I thought… I thought maybe even though Will said he wasn’t ready for us to meet, I thought maybe it was you.”

 

“No,” Will chimes in, stepping closer. He won’t let Amelia take the blame for this. “No, that was me. She wanted to meet you from the start.”

 

“Yeah?” Beth asks.

 

Her eyes actually water at the question and it takes Will a moment to realize Amelia’s have gone shimmery with unspent tears, too.

 

“Very much,” Amelia confirms, cupping Beth’s cheek. “Anyone so important to Will was always going to be important to me.”

 

Beth’s jaw quivers before she barrels into Amelia, closing her in a tight hug. “I’m really glad because I wanted a sister or an aunt or a whatever you are and I didn’t know why I didn’t get to have you, too, if Will had you because it seemed like I should, so I thought maybe you just didn’t want to bother with me because I’m just a kid and some people don’t like kids.”

 

It all comes out in a long rush of breath that has Will feeling about as guilty as he possibly could.

 

But where he fails, Amelia excels.

 

She makes a quiet shushing noise and hugs Beth back, enveloping her in unquestioning warmth and acceptance. “Oh, you darling girl,” she says, emotion riding every syllable. “I love kids. And I can’t see your brother getting seriously involved with someone who wouldn’t want to bother with you. You’re _you_. You’re the most important person in his world.”

 

Even though her face is pressed to Amelia’s chest, Beth looks at him with a question in her eyes. It’s a suckerpunch to the gut. The idea that he’s let her question her value to him makes him feel like the biggest failure in the world.

 

“You always have been,” Will assures her, moving to her side. He rubs Beth’s back beneath the circle of Amelia’s arms. “Always. I just didn’t realize how important meeting Amelia was to you.”

 

Embarrassment twists her features and a blush rises high on her cheeks as she looks at her toes. It’s not like Beth to be bashful.

 

“I thought maybe I’d fit better,” she mumbles.

 

“What do you mean?” Amelia asks, laying a finger under Beth’s chin, urging her to look up.

 

“I like the Queens,” she starts. A tight fists clenches around Will’s heart. “I do. But they’re them. They’re a family without me. And everybody’s okay when I’m there with Will, but it’s also kind of like I only sorta belong.”

 

The words slice into his chest. Will can’t begin to fathom how to fix this. He’s known forever that Beth’s had a hole in her life where their mother should be. He’s suspected that she’s never felt quite at home with his dad’s family. But she’s never said anything as blunt as this. The _need_ has never been so clear.

 

But that’s exactly why he hadn’t introduced her and Amelia. Will bites the tip of his tongue hard enough to draw blood. If Beth tries to fill the empty parts of her heart with Amelia only for her to leave…

 

He has no idea how she’ll get through that. He’s not even sure how he’ll get himself through it.

 

“You do fit,” Amelia assures her, urging Beth back so she can grasp both of the girl’s hands in her own. “I promise, sweetheart. And you and I? We’re going to be good friends. Okay? I really, really wanted to meet you and I’m beyond thrilled that you’re here right now. I feel like we’ve lost so much time already and I can’t wait to start making up for some of that.”

 

“Really?” Beth asks. She lets go of one of Amelia’s hands to swipe a tear off her cheek. “I mean… That’d be cool. If you wanna be friends. I think that could be kinda awesome.”

 

“Come here,” Amelia says, pulling her back into her arms. She hugs her tightly before pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m so honored you chose me as your birthday present.”

 

“It was you or a pony,” she sniffles. “I’m sorta holding out for both.”

 

Will snorts under his breath. “Of course you are.”

 

It earns a grin from Amelia and despite the emotions roiling deep in his chest, he finds himself returning it. In spite of everything, this might be the most achingly beautiful moment he can remember seeing. All his worries aside, Beth clings to Amelia like she’s finally found something she’s been looking for her whole life. And Amelia holds on like she never wants to let go, like Beth’s affection is a gift she intends to earn.

 

Amelia’s advice about not hitting the fast-forward button to a worst case scenario echoes through his mind.

 

Still, he worries about tomorrow, about next week and next month and next year. Because it’s _Beth_. He’s her brother. He wants to keep all of her safe, including her heart. But robbing her of this moment would be cruel, no matter what the fallout later.

 

“I’m not going to buy you a pony,” Amelia says, stroking Beth’s hair. “But what if we went to ride one?”

 

Beth pulls back, giving her a wary look that Will recognizes as patently _Beth_. “I’m listening.”

 

“Once upon a time,” Amelia says, looking past Beth to Will. “Your brother invited me to go with the two of you to the county fair. I’m almost a decade late, but I’d like to say yes now.”

 

Beth squeals with excitement and whips around to look at him with her hands pressed together tightly and her fingers clapping as she grins. But his eyes are for Amelia right now as he tries to find the hidden meaning in her words.

 

Is this regret? Is it just making up for lost time? Is she trying to move along the same path they might’ve if she’d said yes all those years ago? She tried to apologize once for turning him down so many times. He wouldn’t hear it then and he hasn’t let her get the words out again since. But he wonders about them, about why she decided he’s worth it now when he never was before. It itches at the back of his mind, whispering doubts that feed on each other and grow.

 

But he’s also wanted to take Amelia Prescott to the fair for nine years and he’s not about to tell her no now. He’s never been good at telling her no.

 

“I’ll win you some stuffed flowers,” Will says.

 

“Yeah?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to keep them at my boyfriend’s place. I already have some at mine.”

 

“Okay, honey,” he tells her. A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his eyes. “It’s a plan.”

 

Beth shrieks with excitement and hugs Amelia before rushing Will and hugging him, too. “I love this. I love you guys. I gotta go call my dad. You two put on clothes that can be outside!”

 

And with that she races off to her room, leaving Will and Amelia alone.

 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” Amelia tells him. “I barely know that little girl and I love her already. I get that you’re scared I’m going to break her heart, but I swear to you I won’t. If you can believe anything I say, please believe that.”

 

Her words linger in the air between them as he watches her. Will replays them in his head, over and over, wanting so badly to believe every bit of it. She stares right back at him, waiting for a response with eyes that beg him to understand. He finally nods and she lets out a long exhale.

 

“Thank you,” he says. “For that. And for how good you are with her already.”

 

“She’s wonderful, Will,” Amelia says. One side of his stolen t-shirt slips off her shoulder and the intimacy of it in conjunction with the last few minutes renders him slightly speechless. “You don’t have to thank me for being nice to her. She makes it easy.”

 

“You say that now,” he replies. “Wait until she wants something she can’t have.”

 

“Like ponies?”

 

“Pony,” he corrects. “She’s only asked for the one so far.”

 

“Oh, Will.” Amelia laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “Honey, it’s cute that you think it’ll end there. I’ll go change and be right back. Our other plans can wait a bit. Today is gonna be a fun day. I’m excited.”

 

In spite of himself, as he watches her walk back to his bedroom, he realizes that he is, too.

 

They get to the fair before it opens, but that doesn’t seem to bother Amelia or Bethany at all. They chat nonstop like long-lost friends. Beth loops her arm through the crook of Amelia’s elbow, holding on like she’s afraid Amelia will disappear if she lets go.

 

Will knows the feeling.

 

They’re the first ones in when the gates open and Beth grins so wide that Will’s heart aches at the sight of it. She drags them all the way to the back of the fairgrounds. She’s got a strategy for an optimum experience, apparently, because of course she does.

 

Even with the reservations looming over his head like a dark cloud, they all have a fantastic time. Amelia shrieks at the top of her lungs on every wild ride, burying her face in Will’s shoulder and clinging to him like he alone might keep her from falling off the rollercoaster. But, as much as they scare her, she keeps doing them anyway.

 

Beth never once stops looking at Amelia with a soft hopefulness that tears at Will’s heart. It’s worse when someone assumes he and Amelia are Beth’s parents and she doesn’t correct them. If anything, she beams brighter. It would’ve been like this nine years ago, he realizes. More or less, anyhow. Nate would’ve been with them and Beth would’ve been so tiny still. But Amelia would’ve treated her just as gently, just as caringly as she does now.

 

Maternally. That’s the word he’s looking for.

 

She’s like that with kids overall, he thinks. A nurturer whose heart latches onto children and finds joy in their happiness.

 

Traitorously, his imagination spirals at the thought, from what the fair would’ve been like with her a decade ago, to what it might be like a decade from now. Them together with a couple of their own kids feasting on funnel cakes or riding the merry-go-round.

 

He wants that. Maybe he’s always wanted that.

 

But that’s not the kind of life he has and the fact that it feels within reach is torturously unfair. Because, appearance aside, it’s _not_.

 

The picture in his head fades just as the possibility of it does and he finds them stopped in front of a few carnival games. Beth announces she needs the teddy bear the same size as her, so he gets to work besting those silly rigged games. Anything for Beth. He’s so lucky to have her in his life and making her happy with something like this is so simple, even though he knows the minute he wins the bear for her, he’ll probably be the one carrying it around for the rest of the day.

 

But first, he wins Amelia a bouquet of fake, stuffed flowers.

 

Her reaction is every bit as breathtaking as Beth’s. She bites her lip and smiles so beautifully that the apples of her cheeks turn pink and her eyes crinkle. She pretends to sniff her ‘flowers’ before thanking him and kissing him like she never wants to let go. Nearby, Beth gasps at the open display of affection, but when they pull apart, he finds her about to burst with joy.

 

“It’s like a real life fairytale,” Beth declares.

 

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her fairytales aren’t real and no one gets a happily ever after. Surely not him. So instead he pulls her close and kisses the top of her head.

 

She’s so young, still. She deserves to keep that idealism as long as she can.

 

It’s late afternoon when they leave. Beth’s feet drag with exhaustion, but she’s about as happy as he can ever remember having seen her. She hugs Amelia for several full minutes when they drop her off with her dad.

 

“Thank you for my birthday present,” she says softly. “It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.”

 

Will’s heart aches as Amelia’s eyes water up and she kisses Beth’s forehead with a tenderness that almost hurts. They don’t leave until Beth’s extracted a promise from Amelia to be there later in the week to help her get ready for a party with her friends. Her dad’s apparently letting her wear makeup and she’s anxious about doing it right. It takes very little convincing for Amelia to agree. In fact, she seems as happy about the idea as Beth does.

 

Amelia smiles the whole way home. It’s only when they walk through his front door together that he realizes he’s started thinking about his home as hers, too.

 

“Thank you,” she says, draping her arms around his neck.

 

“The fair was your idea,” he points out, his hands finding her hips. “I should be thanking you instead. Beth was so happy I thought she might burst.”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia agrees, nudging his nose with hers. “But that’s not what I meant.”

 

“What’d you mean then?” Will asks.

 

“For letting me in,” she says. “For letting us have today. I know it’s hard for you. I know you were nervous about me and Beth meeting. But, Will, she’s a wonderful kid. She’s so easy to love. And getting to see how much you two care about each other, getting to be _part_ of that… It felt so right. And I’m so grateful because it’s exactly what I want for us.”

 

His heart pounds in his throat. “Sorta like a dream,” he whispers.

 

“The best dream.” Amelia gazes at him with so much love that it sends his head spinning, before she takes a step back. Her hands trail from his neck down the length of his arms to grab hold of his fingers. “Come on. I need to wash the fair off of me. And off of you.”

 

“Amelia…”

 

She drops his hands with a wink before turning away. She glances back at him over her shoulder. “Join me in the shower, honey.”

 

It’s like that first night all over again. She saunters to his bedroom, pulling her top off and dropping it on the floor. She kicks off her shoes and slips off her socks, before unbuttoning her pants. With a quick shimmy of her hips, she’s out of them before going for her bra. She trails clothes behind her as she walks, dropping her bra and then stepping out of her panties, leaving her blissfully and stunningly naked.

 

Will follows like a lost puppy, his eyes glued to her bared curves.

 

Moments like these are the ones that carry him, when he lets go, when he gives into living in the _now_ , when all there is before him is the woman he loves and the love she has for him. She positively glows with it.

 

Will grabs hold of that as much as he grabs her, yanking her back against his chest by her hips before she can reach the bathroom. She sighs out his name, her head falling back against his shoulder as he wraps her up in his arms. One of his hands travels up to cup her breast as the other slips down to run a finger along her folds. He squeezes his eyes shut at the wetness waiting for him there as she lets out a strained noise.

 

“I want you so badly,” she whispers, widening her stance, arching her back.

 

“You’ve got me,” he reminds her, keeping his touch light and teasing.

 

“Inside me,” Amelia clarifies with a huff. He presses a kiss to her shoulder with a grin as her hand finds the back of his head. She makes a fist in his hair, turning to give him a dazed look. It’s so thrilling to know she looks this way because of him. “I want you to pin me to the wall of the shower while you fill me up.”

 

He moans. “God, you have such a way with words.”

 

She kisses him, her lips parting just enough to tease him with a taste. “Please.”

 

“Yeah,” he whispers, reluctantly letting her go to pull his shirt off. “Let me just… Go ahead and get in the shower, honey. I’m just gonna grab a condom.”

 

Amelia spins before he can move, though, grabbing his arm with a furrowed brow before she smoothes it. “You don’t have to,” she says. The words tremble with nerves as a blush colors her cheeks. “I’m on the shot. It might be nice to just… I’d like to skip the condom. I want to know it’s just you inside me.”

 

His heart jumps with so much force it’s a miracle it doesn’t crack his chest plate. He stares at her, blinking with wide eyes, his head going in so many directions at once he’s not sure he can form a coherent thought, much less actual words.

 

Does he want to be bare inside her? Absolutely he does. Badly. The first time she’d brought up the idea, he’d been stunned and he definitely hadn’t been ready. She hasn’t brought it up since, seemingly leaving the choice up to him. That she’s bringing it up now says more to him about how close she feels to him after today than her words alone ever could. Despite the fact he’s never gone without a condom in his life, he finds he wants to right now with a desperation that is a little stunning. But he still can’t say the words. They hover on his tongue as he stares at her, and they don’t budge, even as seconds tick by. He’s given her so much of himself already. What will be left of him when she leaves again?

 

When the silence drags on too long, Amelia adds, “It doesn’t have to be now.” She gives him an uneven smile as she shakes her head. “If you’re not ready, I mean. I just thought… Nevermind.”

 

“I should get tested,” he blurts out. It’s an excuse, and a bad one. He’s been with exactly one woman other than Amelia a grand total of one time since he got shot and they used a condom. The odds of him having anything are ridiculously low. But he sticks to the excuse like glue. “If we’re gonna consider that, I mean. As far as I know, I’m clean, and I’ve always been careful. But it seems like a bad idea without checking first. Just in case.”

 

The way she hesitates makes him wonder if she sees right through his bullshit.

 

“Okay,” Amelia agrees with a thin smile. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since… Well, in years. But I’ll get tested, too. Just so we know for sure.”

 

The words tighten the air with a tension he absolutely does not like, and it only gets worse when she shrugs self-consciously. She tries to reinforce her smile, to make it stronger, but her arms come up to cross over chest. He did that to her, he realizes. He made her feel like he doesn’t want her, when the exact opposite is true.

 

Will curses under his breath before reaching out to cup her face. He strokes his thumb across her cheek and she tries to give him a reassuring nod. God, he’s an idiot… But he doesn’t do anything to fix it. Not how he probably should, anyhow. He just can’t. Instead he gives her a soft kiss, lingering, hoping it tells her how much she means to him.

 

“I love you,” Will says. “Give me just a minute and I’ll be right back.”

 

Amelia nods again, her smile a little fuller. It makes him feel slightly better about the situation as he turns to head back into the bedroom. He strips as she heads to turn on the shower. He listens to her climbing in while he rolls a condom on before heading back to join her, bringing a handful to keep in the bathroom drawer for future use.

 

Steam fogged up the room quickly, enough to obscure her silhouette through the glass door.

 

The outline of her curves takes his breath away. _She_ takes his breath away and for a split second, he thinks about ripping the condom off and sinking into her welcoming heat bare, like she wants. But the thought has his stomach cramping and he shoves it away, focusing back on her. She’s a hell of a sight. And it’s even better when she spots him and leans over, sliding the glass door open just enough to crook her finger at him.

 

“Get in here.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

The rest is easy. His need for her powers him and he has her pinned against the wall with the spray of water against his back before he knows it.

 

Amelia groans as he runs his hands over her wet curves, memorizing her shape with his fingertips as his lips find hers. He angles his head, dipping his tongue into her mouth, moaning when she meets him halfway. She props her foot against a low shelf in the shower, knocking over a bottle of body wash in the process. It makes her giggle, a soft, adorable laugh that has him chuckling right along with her. The new angle gives him plenty of room to get a hand under her leg.

 

“Yes,” she gasps as he breaks the kiss and bends his knees to slip his hands under both thighs.

 

“Legs around me,” he tells her on a grunt as he lifts her.

 

She nods furiously, doing as he says. Her hands find his shoulders as he nails her to the wall, using his body mass to keep her in place. Reaching beneath her thigh, he grips his cock and lines it up before loosening the pressure on her body just enough to let her sink down onto him.

 

“Oh…” Amelia sighs, her heels digging into the small of his back.

 

Will nods in agreement as he starts rocking into her.

 

Shower sex can be a pain in the ass, no matter who the hell is doing it. Taking her from behind would be far simpler, but this is more rewarding. She’s tall enough that she looks down at him, which makes his heart skip a beat, especially when her eyes flutter and she leans in to kiss him. He can see her face the whole time, feel her thighs gripping him, her feet pressing against his back.

 

That’s all he wants - her holding on to him.

 

Water streams down her body. Her wet hair sticks to the tiles behind her. She keeps one hand around the back of his neck and reaches out with her other palm to brace against the glass door.

 

“Love you,” he moans, pinching his eyes shut and pressing his lips to her collarbone as he pumps into her. She surrounds him, holds onto him, overwhelms him. He _needs_ her, more than he can put into words. He needs her as much as he needs the air in his lungs. The thought has him clinging to her as he moves inside her. “So much.”

 

“Oh God,” Amelia gasps, angling her hips so he hits her at a better angle. He knows it’s working well for her because her nails dig into the back of his neck, biting into his skin as her other hand grapples for a better handhold against the shower door. A low moan falls from deep in her chest. “ _Will_.”

 

“‘Melia,” he breathes out against her skin. He’s so damn close, the hot burn of pleasure coming on fast, and he needs her to come before he topples over. He’s secure enough about his hold on her that he keeps one hand under her ass and moves the other between them to find her clit. He needs her with him.

 

“Yes,” she cries when he starts rubbing her almost frantically, using the small amount of leverage she has to push her hips toward his fingers. “Will. Oh God. Oh… Please. Oh God, Will.”

 

On a startled, breathless cry, she comes. Her head thuds back against the tile wall and her heels dig in harder, pushing against the curve of his ass, and he follows a quick second later. Will shoves his head into her shoulder as he spills into the condom, a desperate need he can’t even name coursing through his veins as he thrusts up into her harder and harder, riding their pleasure out.

 

He bites his tongue as starbursts explode behind his eyes.

 

 _Love you. I need you. You’re gonna break me. Don’t leave. Don’t take parts of me. Love you too much and I just wanna keep this. Wish I were the kind of guy who got to keep this_.

 

The coppery tinge of blood coats his tongue in place of the words racing through his heart.

 

It takes a few minutes for them to catch their breaths. When they do, he lowers her feet to the ground and she sags a little against the wall, still holding onto him.

 

“Hi,” she whispers, her cheeks pink and a smile on her lips.

 

“Hi,” he replies, touching his forehead to hers.

 

“Thank you for today,” Amelia adds. Boneless contentment flows through her, emphasizing the happiness filling her voice. “I love you. I love this. Everything about today was perfect.”

 

It was perfect.

 

 _Too perfect_.

 

The doom of that wayward thought squeezes his chest, but Will shoves it away.

 

“It was,” he agrees, because it was perfect, from start to finish.

 

That’s why it’s going to haunt him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am woefully behind on comments, largely because I've been writing basically nonstop. Right now, my original novel has about 67k done (nearly half of that in the last week!) and probably about 43k to go. So, I'm dedicating basically all of my time to that. I'm hoping to have the entire draft done sometime next week. I may find some time to reply to some of last week's comments today, but I doubt I'll get to any on this chapter until at least next Monday. I promise, even if I don't reply quickly they make me giddy to read as they come in. 
> 
> Okay, this chapter... It's not one that I'd read in front of others. There's a bit of a spotlight on Amelia's previous relationship with Thad (which I would argue was emotionally abusive, even if Amelia wouldn't understand that). There's also a continuation of previous themes that I've already warned for. We're headed into what I would say is the darkest part of the story in a lot of ways. So... bring a flashlight. <3

It takes a bit of reorganizing, but Amelia makes it for Bethany’s birthday.

 

Two hours before the party starts, she’s there, helping the newly-minted eleven-year-old with her hair, nails, and makeup. Bethany bubbles with excitement the whole time, chattering away as if they’re long-lost best friends. Or maybe long-lost family. In some ways, it feels like they are. Her father doesn’t seem to quite know how to express his gratitude for Amelia’s presence, but he tries. His eyes shine with unspent tears as he says how much he appreciates her coming by with gravel in his voice and heaviness lining his face. There’s no doubt David loves his little girl. He’d do anything for her, just as Will would. But he hasn’t been able to give her this. She hasn’t had a woman in her life to turn to and rely on. And it’s so obvious how desperately Beth’s been craving that, how much she needs it.

 

It makes Amelia treasure the time she spends with her all the more.

 

The usually brash girl blushes and stares at her toes as she asks if she could maybe call sometime to ask about girl things. Amelia tells her she can call anytime she likes about anything at all. Beth sniffles when she hugs Amelia in response, holding on like she never intends to let go as she mumbles something about waterproof mascara.

 

Amelia doesn’t leave until Beth’s friends show up for her sleepover party, which it turns out is exactly what Beth planned. It’s so painfully obvious that Beth is showing off as she presents Amelia with tremendous pride.

 

“She’s my brother’s girlfriend,” Beth tells them. “So, she’s basically family. Anyhow, we’re super close and she’s really cool for a grown-up. Plus, she’s like _the best_ with makeup and stuff.”

 

In the end, Amelia leaves with a smile on Beth’s face that she knows she put there. That means _everything._ Not just because this is Will’s baby sister that he’s helped raise from before she knew how to talk, but also because Beth needs _her._ And, in some ways, Amelia thinks maybe she needed Beth just as much. Having this little girl look up to her, turn to her when she’s looking for some fundamental bond, that’s more than Amelia could’ve hoped to find.

 

But she has, and it’s wonderful.

 

Her phone goes a little nuts that night with a flurry of photos from Beth’s sleepover, most of them goofy, but all of them happy. That Beth thought to send them to her at all means so very much.

 

The messages don’t slow down much over the next few days, either. Sometimes it’s something as mundane as a shot of her school lunch and a complaint about the so-called food. Other times it’s a picture of her and her friends hanging on the monkey bars at recess or a text groaning about homework. But there are a smattering of bigger questions, too, all of them peppered in-between the silliness like Beth subconsciously needs the buffer.

 

_BF: Did you ever meet my mom?_

 

_BF: How’d you know you were in love with my brother?_

 

_BF: Do you get sad sometimes when you think about your dad, even though he’s been gone a real long time?_

 

Amelia does her best to answer them. Beth’s the sort to test the boundaries of her relationships, to feel out how much the people in her life are willing to share and judge precisely how much of herself to reveal in turn. Luckily, Amelia has a little bit of experience in connecting with people like that. Beth’s like her brother that way, Amelia thinks. Guarded. Careful. Wary of vulnerability even when she wants to open herself up to someone.

 

It’s a few days later when Beth texts her again, just as Amelia’s walking into her office building. She stops in her tracks when she sees a picture of a bus’ tail lights at the end of Beth’s street. 

 

_BF: Just missed it._

 

_AP: Need me to come give you a lift?_

 

_BF: Nah, I’m not the only one who missed it. The dumb bus was early. Lisa’s mom is shouting some awesome swear words at the driver, who definitely can’t hear her. She’ll give us a ride once she’s done using her limited foreign language vocab. She’s already gone through every curse word in English and she’s moved on to like high school level French._

 

_AP: That’s all I remember from French class, too. Well, that and how to ask ‘where is the bathroom.’_

 

_BF: Honestly, what else do you really need?_

 

_AP: Very cute._

 

_BF: I am. I am absolutely adorable._

 

Amelia scoffs and shakes her head as she starts moving toward her office.

 

_AP: You tell your dad and Will how you’re getting to school yet, adorable one?_

 

_BF: Just about to. Have a good day pushing papers around or whatever it is you do!_

 

Sassy little thing. She probably wasn’t going to tell Will or her dad. Amelia grins.

 

_AP: Have a good day writing lines on chalkboards or whatever it is you do!_

 

_BF: Chalkboards?!?!?!! What is this? Like a one-room schoolhouse in the old west? How old ARE you?_

 

A burst of laughter slips past Amelia’s lips. She texts back a winking emoji, her fingers flying over the screen as she adds more to the text.

 

She doesn’t finish it, though. A voice she never wanted to hear again yanks her back to reality instead.

 

“Not a work email, I presume?”

 

The voice crawls up the back of her neck, leaving every little hair standing on end. Amelia immediately squares her shoulders as something deep within her shrinks away. Clicking her phone to a blank screen, she presses it to her chest, as if she’s protecting Beth somehow. Or maybe it’s their fledgling relationship she’s building a wall around as she looks at the man standing in her office.

 

Her ex-fiancé does have a way of tainting every part of her life he’s come into contact with.

 

“What are you doing here, Thad?” she demands, fighting to keep her voice steady. It doesn’t work, though. She’s certain she sounds as off-kilter as his presence makes her feel and everything in her hates that he still has that measure of control over her. 

 

“A favor for you, actually,” he drawls, ignoring her tone. Maybe ‘ignoring’ is the wrong word. Where she sounds uneasy, he comes across as lofty and in command, leaving her feeling smaller by the second. He picks up a photo on her desk, studying it with a bored look.

 

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Amelia replies sharply, walking into her office. Nerves dance down her spine - her door had been locked and the intrusion of her space feels like a violation. She fights against showing him that, though, as she rounds her desk and snatches the picture frame out of his hands. It holds a shot of her and Will. Thad doesn’t get to touch that, not anymore. “I’d also prefer that you not show up unannounced. Or at all.”

 

Annoyance tugs his lips into a frown. “Unfortunately for both of us, that’s not a luxury I have.”

 

Warning bells go off in the back of her mind. She stares at him, trying to keep her composure, fighting against giving anything away. He’d see that as a win and he’d ensure that she sees it as a loss. She doesn’t want to lose to him anymore. She doesn’t want anything to do with him _at all_ , anymore. That he’s even here in her office is alarming enough to start with. It pisses her off nearly as much as it unsettles her, and she drops the picture and her phone on the desk with twin thuds.

 

“How did you even get into my office?” 

 

“Do I look like the kind of man who waits in the hall?” Thad asks with a cold, businesslike smile. “Your boss let me in with her apologies that you were running late.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Amelia counters, insistent and looking for solid ground to plant her footing. “She must have been under the impression we had a meeting. We don’t. And I have things to do. So, if you don’t mind…” She gestures to the open door with eyebrows raised in expectation.

 

Thad gives her a long-suffering look that makes her feel about three inches tall before taking a seat. He seems far too at home in her office for her liking. “Sit down, Amelia. This is more important than whatever chores you have on your docket today. But you might want to close the door first.”

 

She narrows her eyes. “You’ve got to be-”

 

“On this one thing, trust me.”

 

Amelia grits her teeth. She still glares at him, but she stops to weigh his words as she soaks in the look on his face. She has no lingering affection for this man. He all but ruined her life at one point. He used her, lied to her, and manipulated her, though she doubts very much that he sees it that way. Being near him still makes her feel like a fresh-faced intern struggling to keep up and it takes conscious effort to remind herself that’s not who she is anymore. She hates it. But she knew him pretty well once upon a time, and she knows what he looks like when something is serious. When it’s _business_. And that’s the look he’s wearing right now.

 

She also knows that if this is about what she thinks it is, she doesn’t want anyone overhearing.

 

Clenching her jaw, she moves to shut the door before returning to her chair and sitting across from him. “Make this quick.”

 

But because he’s Thad - and a politician to the core - he does no such thing.

 

“This suits you,” he says, taking his time to look around her office as desperation coils in her gut, a wild need for this impromptu meeting to be _over_. “This job. This… life. Even if it feels a touch more mundane than what I’d envisioned for you.”

 

“Backhanded compliments have always been your speciality, haven’t they?” she asks with a tight-lipped smile. His face flinches before he catches himself, and it leaves her feeling a brief rush of victory. She leans into it, spilling out words she would’ve kept in years ago. “I think we both know that what you envisioned for me was entirely about you and not at all about me. So, forgive me if I don’t give a damn if you think my life is _mundane_.”

 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Thad replies. Both his dismissive tone and his words crawl up her spine. “You sound like a teenager. Such childish emotions… Really, I’d have thought you’d be more professional by now. I’m aware that it’s easier for you to think everything I did was for myself, rather than consider that you were at fault for holding yourself back from our relationship because you were besotted with someone else like some lovesick schoolgirl, but I did think you were too intelligent to voice such thoughts.”

 

“Get out,” Amelia snaps, pointing at the door. Her heart pounds in her throat and her voice breaks, but it does nothing to dissuade her from telling him to leave. 

 

She’s done playing by his rules, done following where he leads, done looking up to him like he deserves her respect. He doesn’t. He’s proven that time and again. And that he can still walk into her life and leave her feeling small and weak and inadequate in a matter of seconds is more unsettling than she could’ve anticipated.

 

“Calm down,” he says. She doesn’t stop pointing at the door, instead raising her eyebrows to emphasize her point. But she can’t make him _do_ anything. She doesn’t have any control with him. She never did. That realization shakes her to her foundation. 

 

 _No_. This isn’t who she is anymore. She won’t be this woman. She’s better now. She’s stronger. She’s Providence. 

 

“Out,” she repeats, even though her voice splinters on the word.

 

Thad takes a careful breath. “Please… This is important.”

 

It’s a concession she only just allows.

 

“I am _happy_ with my life,” Amelia tells him, feeling the truth of every word as speaks them with emphasis. “Whatever you need to tell yourself about why we broke up is fine with me, but I don’t want to rehash anything with you. Not now. Not ever.”

 

“Well, that’s unfortunate because I suspect it might come up in court.”

 

Amelia freezes, certain she heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

 

Thad pauses. For once, she doesn’t think it’s a performative act. He genuinely doesn’t want to have this conversation any more than she does.

 

That alone has her heart beating faster as nerves twist her stomach.

 

“You’re the primary witness for the prosecution in the very, very high profile case,” Thad reminds her. “You had to have known Ketherington and Meyers’ defense attorney would be looking for ways to gut your credibility.”

 

She sits back in her chair, feeling some of the color drain from her face as her heart races, pounding at a breakneck pace. “So they contacted you?”

 

“Indeed. Who better than me to serve as a character witness for you?”

 

“ _Anyone_ else?”

 

Thad ignores her. “We lived together for years. I’m extremely well-known and well-regarded. My reputation is inscrutable and our history undeniable.”

 

Amelia’s breathing grows shallow as she stares at him. The damage he could do to her reputation… to _Will’s_ … It’s nearly unbelievable.

 

“What the hell do you want, Thad?” she demands, unable to mask the fear behind her breathless words.

 

“You know what I want.”

 

Thoughts whirl through her head as she works to catch up. The attack, what she knows about Domino, about Thad… 

 

“This is political,” Amelia realizes, pulling away from him with wary eyes. “The case. You being here now. All of it. It wasn’t just about getting Mayor Lance out of the way. It was bigger than that. It still is. To what end? Where is this going?”

 

He rubs his chin and averts his gaze, avoiding her scrutiny. “I know less about the attack than you do,” he says. She doesn’t believe him. “But I know things will go better for all of us if you tread cautiously.”

 

She leans forward, resting her forearms against her desk. Her eyes don’t leave him for a second. She barely blinks. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means you never saw the men unmasked, correct?” he asks, looking back at her. “It means you can - with a clear conscience - state that you cannot be certain the men arrested were the same ones who killed the mayor.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“I assure you, this is the furthest thing from a joke, Amelia.”

 

“You’re right,” she snaps, pushing her chair back and standing. She wraps her arms around her middle and swallows hard. “It’s witness tampering.”

 

“It is _not_ ,” Thad counters, standing as well. The desk between them doesn’t feel anywhere close to enough of a barrier. 

 

“Do you prefer witness intimidation?” Amelia demands, hugging herself tighter. “Either way you’re committing a crime right now.”

 

“God damn it, Amelia, listen to me.” Thad slaps a palm against her desk. She jumps at the display of emotion from someone usually so composed, but the moment is stolen when her favorite photo of herself and Will clatters face-down to the solid surface of her desk. Both she and Thad turn toward it. An uncomfortable sense of foreboding fills the air and Amelia has the sudden, desperate need to be anywhere but here… Will. She needs _Will_. “Believe what you will, but I _am_ here as a favor, Amelia. To both of us. These are not people you want to mess with.”

 

Amelia’s breath catches. This isn’t the sort of danger she faces when she’s behind a mask, but her muscles tense as if ready to respond to an attack anyhow.

 

“They will get what they want,” Thad promises, his eyes fixed on her. “They always do.”

 

“Who are they?” she asks, her voice softer than she wants. She clears her throat, forcing herself to speak louder. “Who is Domino?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Unlike some people, I know better than to ask.”

 

Despite her frustration at the answer and the unwelcome rush of shame that races through her at his subtle beratement, she believes him. Thad’s always been careful to keep his hands clean. But he is involved, somehow, whether he likes it or not.

 

“What did they threaten you with?” Amelia asks.

 

Thad waves her off. “I respond far better to a carrot than a stick.”

 

“Of course you do,” she scoffs, shaking her head at him.

 

“Say what you will, but you’d do well to emulate me,” he says. “You want your hospital built? They can make that happen. You want to keep all your dirty laundry from being aired? They can do that, too.”

 

“What dirty laundry?”

 

“Amelia…” Thad shakes his head with a soft ‘tsk’ sound. “Why in the world would you think they’d stop with me? They’ll ask me under oath about the time your beloved William punched me. They’ll bring up his recent alarming number of visits to the liquor store. The Queen family isn’t without its issues, is it? You’re associated with them now through your lovely _Will_. And let’s not forget your precious goddaughter. Do you really think they won’t ask her about every last painful detail she saw and heard? They will make this hurt in every way they can, if you make things difficult for them. You might be happy with your mundane little life, but it’s _nothing_ to them. They will crush it beneath their boots unless you do what they want.”

 

“I see we’ve moved on to blackmail,” she says, barely keeping her voice from shaking. Nausea pulls at her gut as her head spins. “Will isn’t on trial. And neither am I.”

 

“You’re misconstruing this _entirely_.”

 

Her phone chirps and both she and Thad look down as a text from Bethany lights up the screen. There’s a photo with it of her tossing up a peace sign and making a kissing face at the camera from her school’s steps.

 

_BF: Made it on time! Love you for offering me a ride. See you soon!_

 

“William’s sister? The little one?” Thad asks. Her stomach slams into the ground and Amelia snatches her phone off the desk, stuffing it in her pocket. But it’s too late. He already saw the message and the photo with it. “How will she cope, I wonder. When they detail his drinking and his history of assault in court? When it’s dragged all over the press?”

 

“Get the fuck out of my office,” Amelia growls, anger drowning out her nerves. She glares at him hard enough that he actually steps back. “You don’t get to talk about that little girl. Whatever this is, whatever happens, you leave her out of it. And you leave Deedee out of it. They’re _children._ They’ve been through too much already and I will do whatever I have to in order to protect them. Do you understand me?”

 

“Crystal clear,” Thad says, a chilling smile pulling at his lips. “But I don’t think you understand me. I’m a tool, Amelia. I am the messenger they chose. I have no say over what happens.”

 

Amelia doesn’t pause. She doesn’t hesitate. Eyes never leaving his, she rounds her desk and goes toe-to-toe with him, holding her chin high.

 

“I watched those men murder someone,” she bites out. “One of them tried to choke me to death. The other held a gun to my head and threatened the life of my goddaughter who’s so little she’s still in diapers. You might be content to be their tool, but I’m _not._ I’m _done_ being used. By them. By you. By Moira. By anyone. But you are right about one thing: you have no say over what happens. I do. And, by God, Thad, I’m not going to roll over and give them what they want. You’re scared of them? Fine. But the one thing you’ve made quite clear is that they’re scared of _me._ And that’s good. Because they should be.”

 

He stares at her like he’s never seen her before, like all their years of history have evaporated and he’s left trying to sort out who the woman standing before him is.

 

“They’ll destroy you,” Thad says softly, a veil of thin concern painting itself across his face. “You have to know that.”

 

“Not if I destroy them first,” Amelia replies. “I’m not as mundane as you seem to think.”

 

“Apparently not,” he allows. 

 

He doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t make any assumptions. At least not out loud. But she knew he wouldn’t. Whatever he might suspect, even if it’s the truth, Thad’s smart enough not to outright confirm it.

 

Amelia turns and walks to her office door. She pulls it open with a biting, “I guess I’ll see you in court.”

 

He hesitates only a moment before giving her a short nod. It almost looks respectful. “I guess you will,” Thad replies before heading past her into the hall.

 

She doesn’t even wait until he’s out of sight before she slams the door behind him.

 

With an unsteady breath, Amelia sags against the solid wood. Her breathing morphs into ragged pants and she closes her eyes, trying to slow herself down, to calm her pounding heart.

 

Seeing Thad under any circumstance would’ve been uncomfortable, but this was several steps beyond awkward. This wasn’t her and Will running into him on accident on the street or at a formal event. The problem isn’t even Thad himself. Not really. It’s the litany of problems he just laid at her feet. It all goes back to the trial. To Domino’s boys. To Domino’s identity. To the mayor’s murder. To the hospital she keeps failing to get built. How Thad fits into any of it isn’t clear, but it does give her one thing...

 

It gives her a new trail to follow.

 

Amelia almost laughs. She’s been training as a vigilante for months, it makes sense she would start thinking like one.

 

But that’s not her primary concern right now. At the moment, her focus has to be the many, many fronts they’re facing danger on. Not just in the streets, not just behind a mask or a desk, not even just in court. These people are ruthless, they’re informed, and they’ve made it exceptionally clear they’re going to do anything they need to do in order to get what they want. If that means going through Will or Beth or Deedee, it won’t matter to them. They wouldn’t even blink, even though it would gut her, leaving a permanent scar in the depths of her soul.

 

She can protect the people she loves from a man in a mask with a weapon in his hands. She’s prepared for that, trained for it. But how can she protect them from a man in a suit with words as weapons on his lips?

 

One thing is clear: This isn’t just about her. However they’re going to respond to this, it needs to be done together. She needs Will, and she needs the team.

 

With a quick text to her boss telling her she’ll be out of the building for a bit, Amelia grabs her purse where she discarded it by her desk and leaves, locking her office behind her. She scarcely remembers the drive to Will’s firehouse, but she does remember the instinct telling her to go straight to him. When she needs someone, he’s always the first person that comes to mind. Above Maggie and Celeste. Above her mom. Will’s her person, the one she’s come to lean on when she needs someone the most. There’s no situation she can think of where she’d rather be without him.

 

It’s pure luck that they aren’t out on a call when she gets there. It’s even better luck that the other trucks on duty _are_. It means they have the firehouse to themselves and can talk freely.

 

But, in hindsight, that’s where her luck ends for the day.

 

When she walks into the breakroom, Will’s face lights up before coloring with concern. “Amelia?” 

 

“We have a problem,” she says by way of response. The rest of the words stall on her tongue, though. God, where does she even _start_? Amelia rubs her thumb against the palm of her other hand, trying to find what’s supposed to come next after such an entrance, as Will comes closer to her, Sara close behind him.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Sara asks.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Amelia replies. It eases the tension in the room just a bit. “This is… It’s about the trial. And everything around it.”

 

 _It’s about Domino_. She sees the instant they get it.

 

“You want me and Alex here for this?” Sara asks. “Or do you want some space?”

 

“Space… I think? For now, anyway.” Amelia gives her a thin smile. “Thank you, Sara.”

 

The other woman nods and claps Will on the shoulder. “You got it. I’m gonna go get some exercise in with Javi and Alex in the weight room. You know where to find us.”

 

“Yeah,” Will replies, tossing her a grateful look before she strides away, leaving him and Amelia alone. Worry lines his features when he looks back at her. He gestures to lead her toward the sofa, but she just shakes her head. She probably _should_ sit, but she’s too jittery right now. She needs to keep moving, which is exactly what she does. It does nothing to ease Will’s mood. “What’s wrong?”

 

“If I don’t water down my testimony, the defense intends to discredit me as much as they possibly can,” she tells him, rubbing her palms against her thighs. She needs friction, needs movement, so she rubs harder as she paces the room. “And they’ll go through anyone they have to in order to do it.”

 

Will frowns. “Okay, so… What do you-”

 

“They want me to say I’m not sure what happened,” Amelia blurts, waving her hands. Even as panicked as she feels, it’s a comfort to be able to spill all of this out to him, to feel like she’s not alone. “They want me to say I never saw the masks taken off, so I can’t be sure who the attackers really were. They want me to emphasize that I wasn’t in the room with them the whole time, so I can’t be sure that the men arrested are the same ones who murdered the mayor and tried to kill me.”

 

“Plausible doubt,” he says. “They want plausible doubt.”

 

Amelia scoffs, shoving her hands into her hair. “ _Plausible_. Maybe to people who’ve seen too many episodes of _Law & Order_. No one materialized into the room to swap places with my attackers who just happened to miraculously sport the exact same, very unique injuries!”

 

“A jury’s gonna know that.”

 

“You have a whole lot more faith in the wisdom of juries than I do,” she replies, her pacing increasing as she speaks. “All you need is one guy who thinks eyewitness statements don’t count as evidence. One guy who thinks _real_ evidence always comes with a specialist presenting a DNA match. One guy who doesn’t give a damn if these men are guilty or not because Domino threatened his family, too.”

 

 _Tell me I’m wrong_ , she thinks. _Promise me it’ll be okay. Hold me and swear we can get through this._

 

He doesn’t.

 

Will goes very still. “What do you mean ‘ _too_?’”

 

She stops and meets his gaze as a ball of nerves solidifies in her stomach.

 

“If I don’t weaken their case for them, they’re going to assault my character to make me seem unreliable.” Amelia swallows hard. “And they’re gonna do it by going through you.”

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

She suddenly regrets that they aren’t sitting down after all. The distance between them feels vast and isolating, like they’re facing the same problem on different planes of existence. She has the sudden urge to reach out and touch him, to soothe away the guarded look that takes over his face, to find a way to tackle this together. It’s why she’s _here_ , after all. It’s why her first impulse was to run to him. She needs him. Part of her had hoped he’d he a pillar of strength for her in this, but she’d happily take them leaning against each other to stay upright at this point. It seems unlikely, though. He pulls back like he’s crumbling, tension tightening his frame, emphasizing the tightly knotted muscles along his shoulders and the wary look in his eye.

 

“They’re going to put Thad on the stand,” she tells him in a voice that grows more ragged with each word. The look on his face at this little bit of news doesn’t help, but she doesn’t stop. “He’ll make me sound weak and flighty. He’ll highlight how my career fell apart and that I need a win against Domino to get this hospital built and justify having my job. And he’ll make you seem volatile and violent and he’s going to bring up your drinking.” Will jerks like she’s slapped him and Amelia takes a few desperate steps in his direction. “He’s got liquor store receipts, honey. I didn’t want to bring this up like this. I’m _sorry_ , Will, but you know how that’s going to sound in court and we can’t… We can’t be caught unaware.”

 

For a second, she’s not sure he’s even breathing. “How do you know this?”

 

She hesitates. When she looks back later, she’ll berate herself. She can’t believe she _hesitates_ before answering him, but she does. Because she knows what he’s going to think, and she wants to protect him. She hadn’t taken any time to consider the best way to tell him how all of this came about and now that the words are out, she’s cursing her lack of foresight.

 

“Amelia,” he prompts and she grimaces.

 

“He told me,” she replies.

 

“You’ve having _chats_ about me with your ex-fiancé?” he demands, pulling back.

 

“What? No.” She shakes her head, taking another step forward. She stops when he falls back further in direct response. “I got to work and he was in my office. I haven’t seen him in years. Half of me thinks Domino sent him just to try to intimidate me.”

 

“And the other half?” Will demands. The muscles of his jaw twitch as he clenches his teeth. “What does that side say?”

 

“Why are you angry about this?”

 

“Because my girlfriend’s ex-fiancé intends to use all of my weaknesses against her in court,” Will snaps in a sharp tone that echoes off the walls. “How am I supposed to feel about it?”

 

Amelia shrugs helplessly. She felt so weak and small standing face to face with Thad. She hadn’t expected to feel the same standing in front of Will. “I don’t know, maybe like you’d like to be my partner and help me figure out how the hell we beat him together.”

 

“He’s gonna paint me as a violent drunk, Amelia,” Will replies, his voice rising.

 

“Which you’re not,” she reminds him. “Honey, you’re _not_. I know that. Everyone who loves you knows that. You don’t have a violent bone in your body.”

 

“Thad’s nose would disagree,” he retorts, his breathing growing increasingly rapid. “But the fact that you only focused on half of that accusation says a hell of a lot.”

 

Amelia’s mouth snaps shut. She did, she realizes. Her eyes drop to stare at his collarbone, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the direction of the conversation hits her. Oh God, not now. It’s both the worst setting and the worst timing.

 

“Will-”

 

“Nice of you to hide behind your ex to bring up my drinking,” Will says in a darkly chilled voice. She pinches her eyes shut. “If you wanted to accuse me of being a drunk, you could’ve at least done it on your own.”

 

“I didn’t,” she says, but her voice is little more than a weak puff of air.

 

“Yeah?” Will crosses his arms and grips himself so tightly it hurts even her. “So you’re saying that you know he’s wrong, then?” Amelia meets his eyes, but she hesitates again, the words she wants to say trapped on her tongue. His jaw tightens. “Right.”

 

“I don’t know,” she admits, giving him an uneasy shrug borne of desperation. She needs to connect with him - somehow, some way - because right now he feels like he’s slipping away and she needs to hold on more than anything else. “I know I worry. I know I love you either way. I know you drink more than I’d like, but you don’t talk about it, so I don’t know if it’s… If it’s a problem or if it’s just a habit after work that you could give up if you wanted to.”

 

Will nods, every muscle in his jaw clenched. His eyes burn into her. “I don’t drive drunk. I don’t get destructive. I don’t hurt anyone.”

 

“I know that,” Amelia says, vehemence lining her words. “You’ve _never_ hurt me. And you’d never hurt Bethy. But I… I _worry_ , Will. I worry you’re hurting yourself because, honey, there is no one more important to me in the world than you. And I admit it, I’m scared you’re headed down a path that’s only going to damage you more.”

 

He doesn’t move a muscle. “I see a lot of shit at work, Amelia,” he reminds her.

 

“I know you do.”

 

“Sometimes I just need a drink when I get home to get it all out of my head. Okay?”

 

It probably sounds reasonable to him. He makes it sound like it’s normal. Like it’s _fine_. 

 

But it’s not.

 

Heart breaking, Amelia presses her hand to her forehead. And then she shakes her head.

 

“No, Will,” she says. “No, it’s _not_ okay. Not if you _need_ it. Not when I know it’s not just one drink. Not when I know you’re refilling bottles so I don’t see how much you’ve really had. You want to know what I think? I think you have a problem with alcohol. I think you use it to cope and it’s only going to get worse unless you do something about it. But I also know that I love you whether that’s true or not. And I’ll support you no matter what.”

 

Will shakes his head before spinning away, like he can’t even look at her. He shoves his hands through his hair, his breathing uneven before he turns back to her. But he doesn’t look at her. He grits his teeth and stares at the floor, his face hardening, his eyes reddening.

 

He doesn’t say anything.

 

She can’t take it.

 

“Honey,” she says, closing the rest of the distance between them. The second she touches his arm, he yanks it away, still staring at the ground.

 

“I’m at work,” he reminds her. His voice doesn’t sound like him and it makes her entire being ache as she wonders what happened to her Will, where he went. “The alarm could go off any second and I’d need to go. This isn’t the place for this conversation.”

 

“Please,” she whispers, reaching for him again. She touches his cheek. The muscles twitch under her hand, but he doesn’t respond. “I know, okay? This is the worst time and place for this conversation, but we need to have it. Thad-”

 

“Is probably right,” Will finishes for her, looking her dead in the eye. She blinks, too stunned to reply. “You should listen to him. At least he can back you up.”

 

Amelia jolts. “What?” 

 

“I’m not gonna be able to help you, Amelia,” he tells her, his voice cracking. She shakes her head, sliding her hand to grip the back of his neck and hold him close. But he steps back, forcing her to let him go. “Even you think I’m an alcoholic. We both know I’m a mess. So, if they’re gonna use me as a weapon against you, don’t let them. Scale back whatever you were gonna say on the stand, walk away from the damned team, get your hospital built, and… And count yourself _lucky_ that you _can_. Domino’s gonna get taken down one way or another. Men like him always do. There’s no reason for you to get taken down with him.”

 

She shakes her head. “I can’t… I’m going to do what’s right. I’m not going to sit back and rely on other people to make things better for me. And I can’t believe you’d suggest that I should.”

 

“They’ll destroy you,” Will says, the words gritty and harsh. It echoes of Thad far more than she’d like. “One way or another. Your reputation. Your friends. Your life. What are you gonna let them take from you? Because that’s where we’re at.”

 

“None of it!” Amelia insists on a harsh cry that begs for his understanding. “That’s my point, Will. They don’t get to have parts of me. I thought you’d have my back on that.”

 

“According to you and _Thad_ , I can’t even help myself,” Will points out with an angry shrug. “How the hell am I supposed to be able to help anyone else?”

 

“Damn it, Will,” she growls, frustration strangling her voice. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” She grips her purse strap against her shoulder. “Try to remember that I brought all of this to you because I love you. Because I _trust_ you, and rely on you. And maybe because I needed you today. When that sinks in, drop by and we’ll talk. Until then, I need to go have a chat with your father because all of this affects the team, too.”

 

“Wait.” He grabs her before she can go, and for a split second, she thinks maybe he’s already come to his senses. “You’re going to talk to my _dad_?”

 

Amelia’s heart falls. Tears fill her eyes and she looks up to the ceiling to stem them. “I’ll leave the alcohol out of it, if that’s your worry,” she says, her eyes finding him again. “I can keep that vague. But we’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later, whether you like it or not.”

 

Something in his face settles.

 

As seconds tick by, she wonders if he heard anything she said past the first sentence. But then his thumb rubs gently against her arm and she lets out a heavy sigh. God, she wants to crumble and hold onto him. That’s mostly why she came here, she thinks. That’s what she wanted. It’s what she _needs_. Maybe she’d taken the wrong approach. Maybe she should’ve been looking for them to hold onto each other instead of voicing problems bound to push him away. She just hadn’t realized it would go this way until it was too late.

 

“Okay,” Will whispers, his voice softer. More like _him_.

 

“Okay,” Amelia echoes with more than a little relief. She reaches for him, resting her fingers against his neck. “I love you so much. We’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. I promise. As long as we stick together, everything will be fine.”

 

The pained look in his eye sets her nerves on edge, but it’s gone a second later. He kisses her temple and she lets herself relish the warm press of his lips to her skin. And when he pulls back to look at her again, there’s a thin, pleasant smile waiting for her.

 

She freezes at the sight of it.

 

The smile he does for other people.

 

Amelia’s heart sinks. In some ways, she preferred the accusations and anger. At least that was genuine. She wants to tell him that, suddenly wants to rail at him, to get that back, but they’ve been through so much already today. And he’d been right when he pointed out he was at work.

 

So she bites her tongue, mirroring his smile back at him.

 

“Say hi to my dad for me,” Will says.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees. They’re still close, still touching, but the distance between them feels like miles. “Yeah, I will.”

 

She leaves with a heavy gulp and an unsettling feeling roiling around her stomach.

 

Walking away from Will feels like a bad idea, but it’s her only option. She needs to regroup, to figure out what the hell just happened, and how to find a path forward. But, before she does that, she needs to make sure Will’s alright. Or, at least, as alright as he can be at the moment.

 

To say her worry over his well-being is steadily increasing is a massive understatement. If anything, his defensiveness about his drinking confirms her worst fears, the ones that have been whispering themselves in her ear for months. That doesn’t change that she’ll stand by him through whatever he faces. No matter how difficult it gets, she’s found what she wants and she’s not going to give that up just because it gets hard. But she also can’t fight his battles for him. She can’t even make him recognize what’s happening. She can _try_ , but accepting it falls on him. 

 

And he’s not ready to do that. 

 

Too bad circumstances might not leave him much of a choice.

 

Instead of leaving the building, Amelia makes her way toward the sound of light chatter and the clang of weights. It’s with reservations and a backbone of steel that she stands in the doorway of the firehouse gym, gathering together the words she needs to say.

 

“Hey,” Alex greets when he notices her lingering. Despite the dumbbells in his hands, he misses nothing and a deep frown tugs at his lips as he soaks in her unsettled face. “Everything okay?”

 

She licks her lips and shakes her head. “Can we talk in the hall for a second?”

 

“Yeah.” He sets the weights down and grabs a towel to drag over his face. “Sure thing.”

 

Amelia gives a small nod of greeting to Javi and a weak smile to Sara, but none of it really registers as she turns and heads into the hall with Alex.

 

“What’s up, chica?”

 

The concern in his voice is real and it has Amelia fighting the urge to fall apart right there. Instead, Amelia drags her hands through her hair, looking at him with a heavy heart and broken eyes.

 

“You know him better than anyone,” she says. “There’s just… There’s some rough things going on right now and it’s more difficult than it should be.” Amelia swallows hard, choosing not to elaborate. Too much of this is private, even if she does need Alex’s help. She sighs. “I know you’re all family. That’s how these teams work. And I know you look out for him already. But, I’m worried about where his head’s at right now. So, especially today - or maybe until the trial is over - please look out for him? Just bring him home safe to me?” 

 

Her jaw quivers and her eyes water as she tries to hold herself together. She’s fought so hard to be strong. Since the attack on City Hall, or maybe even before that. Maybe it’s since she walked away from Thad and the carefully constructed life she’d settled on for so long. But no one can be strong all the time, and she can feel the cracks in her façade deepening even as she speaks.

 

“Please?” she whispers.

 

“Always,” Alex promises, settling both hands on her shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “He’s my brother. I got his back no matter what. Even when he don’t got his own.” 

 

Amelia nods, not trusting her voice. A tear slips down her cheek and she bats it away.

 

“Boy loves you somethin’ fierce,” Alex adds. “You know that, right?”

 

“I know,” she manages with what she hopes is a smile. “Thank you.”

 

She hopes it’s enough. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read this in public. 
> 
> Seriously. 
> 
> That said, brief note about my original works. I've somehow managed roughly 64k words in two weeks (!!!) and I should be done with the first draft in the next two days. The tentative title is 'Picture It' and I've got revisions to do of course, but I love the bones of it (it's much, much lighter than this) and I'm on track to have it out at some point next year. 
> 
> Now... as for this chapter... Don't read it in public. I mean it. I'll be able to finally catch up on comments toward the end of this week, I think. I'm sorry for having gotten so far behind, but it's extremely hard to bounce between universes for me. 
> 
> Anyhow... here we go.

The afternoon sun beats against his back.

 

Will closes his eyes and leans into it. Sunshine does nothing to ease his still-thundering headache or the roll of nausea in his gut, but its heat penetrates his jacket, soothing his stiff muscles. They’re more like blocks of wood than anything resembling tissue, after spending another night on that goddamned sofa. He huffs. In spite of the inevitable downsides, every time he collapses on the broken couch after getting home from a rough day at work, he doesn’t move. 

 

Not as long as he has a bottle and a glass right there with him.

 

His gut clenches and his eyes snap open. That’s not a line of thought he wants to follow right now. He focuses on Beth’s school where he waits for her to get out, on the parents milling around, on anything but the memory of last night.

 

Despite his best efforts, it whispers through his head and he grits his teeth.

 

Amelia made it sound like he can’t control himself. Like he can’t stop. It’s not a compulsion, damn it. It’s… _escape_. It’s how he’s able to close his eyes after the shit he sees at work, how he wipes the slate clean so he can get back up and do it all over again. Is that so wrong? He doesn’t _need_ it. He doesn’t drink the entire bottle, and he sure as hell doesn’t do it every night.

 

It’s only on the bad days.

 

 _How many days are bad days?_  

 

It’s Amelia’s voice he hears. For a split second he lets himself wonder about the answer before he shakes his head. No, it’s not like that. Sometimes he _does_ only have one drink. Sometimes the bottle is still full the next morning. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep on his couch for a couple of weeks in a row. 

 

_So why did she look at me that way?_

 

Will’s lungs stutter at that, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket yanks him out of his thoughts. Heart leaping up into his throat, he quickly tugs it out, hoping like hell it’s Amelia reaching out when he’s been too damn cowardly to do it himself. But the message waiting for him isn’t from the person he wants it to be from. It’s from Alex.

 

_AC: Hey, man, you home?_

 

_WQ: no. picking up bethy from school_

 

_AC: Cool. You free tonight? I’ll bring over some food._

 

Will furrows his brow. Instead of responding, he goes back into his messages and selects his text thread with Amelia. There hasn’t been anything since yesterday morning when she’d texted him a list of vegetables to pick up for the dinner they were supposed to be sharing tonight. She hasn’t followed up like usual. She hasn’t texted him at all. He usually starts his day with a bright message from her when he worked the night before.

 

Is their dinner still going to happen? No, probably not. Not after yesterday. 

 

The thought has his stomach plummeting. He wants it to. He _needs_ it to. But when he moves to text her, his thumbs just hover above the screen. 

 

Grumbling a curse, he goes back to Alex’s question. He wants to say no, but he knows if he starts blowing people off, they’re just gonna show up at his doorstep, and he’s not in the mood for those lectures. Besides, he has time to text Amelia still. He has time to fix things, to be in a better mood, to not dread seeing his best friend when all he wants to do is be alone.

 

On a sigh, Will forces his thumbs to move.

 

_WQ: got plans tonite. tmrw?_

 

_AC: Sounds good._

 

He goes back to Amelia’s texts, but he doesn’t do anything. He should apologize. He should try and explain. He should… 

 

The sound of the school bell ringing echoes through the air and Will puts his phone away. He’ll text her later.

 

Beth expects him this time and she practically bursts out the doors, a huge grin overtaking her face the instant she spots him. Her long, scrawny legs break into an all-out sprint that leaves her classmates in the dust. But the smile on her face dims when she looks around and comes to the realization that he’s alone.

 

“No Amelia?” she asks with a crestfallen pout.

 

His heart stutters again at the sound of her name. This time it hurts. Will frowns as one of the moms nearby chuckles under her breath and tosses him an amused look. “Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special, Beth.”

 

“Sorry,” she offers, chewing her lip with a half-shrug. She’s quiet for nearly a whole twenty seconds as they walk to his car before continuing. “Are we meeting her somewhere? Can she hang out? Do we have plans? Is she working? We could totally surprise her at work. Everyone likes surprises-”

 

“That’s definitely not true,” Will interjects, but she doesn’t even pause to take a breath much less process his words.

 

“-if you bring them, like, cookies or chocolates, or maybe flowers! What’s Amelia’s favorite flower? We could get her a bouquet.”

 

All Will can do is blink. Beth just hit him with an onslaught and all he’s capable of is… blinking. 

 

It’s too much. He can’t think about any of this right now, not after yesterday. She’d said she loved him, that they would get through this, and he’d just stood there. Because, in that moment, he honest to God had not believed her.

 

How can anything be okay when he’s the reason her world is set to collapse around her?

 

Will can’t let that happen. He won’t.

 

So what now?

 

“Beth,” he starts, but nothing follows. He can’t tell her any of this, and there isn’t a way to ask her to kindly stop talking because every word out of her mouth hits him like a body blow.

 

“What?” she prompts.

 

Will clears his throat. “Is there a particular question you’d like answered first?”

 

She shrugs. “Whichever you like is fine, I guess.”

 

“Generous of you.”

 

“I mean, I can be awfully benevolent when the situation calls for it,” she replies in a lofty voice as she examines her nails. They’re chipped, he notices. Normally, Beth removes her nail polish as soon as it shows any sign of wear. But Amelia did them last time. Apparently that makes all the difference.

 

 _She always does_. 

 

Will’s shoulders sag. Even when he’s being an asshole, she makes a difference. Even when she’s not _here_ , she makes a difference, one he can see so painfully clear in Beth right now. Amelia keeps trying. She doesn’t let go. He gave her half a dozen reasons to do just that yesterday, but she didn’t. No, it was him pushing her away, losing his mind over Thad, shutting down when it turned to his drinking. He’d spent the majority of the morning rationalizing why she was wrong… all while sitting on his sofa with a tumbler of whisky in hand. 

 

 _Just one drink_.

 

He can’t really remember the last time it was just _one_ drink. The thought makes his stomach sour and his fingers twitch as his mind immediately rejects the idea. 

 

_Even if it’s true._

 

“Damn,” he says under his breath, his insides lurching.

 

“What?” Beth asks.

 

“Nothing,” Will says quickly, giving her what feels like a lame smile. “It’s just that while I have no doubt Amelia would like to be here to see you, she’s at work. And she had meetings today, so we really can’t interrupt her. Not even for flowers and chocolate. Sorry, kiddo.”

 

“Aw, _man_ ,” Beth whines, suddenly sounding closer to the age she seems in Will’s head.

 

“You’ll have to accept me as a substitute. Sorry you get the runner-up,” he says, aiming for a laugh as he opens the car door for her.

 

“Shut up,” she orders, rolling her eyes as she swings her backpack off her shoulders and hops in the backseat. And, just like that, she’s back to eleven going on sixteen. “It’s not a competition. Besides, shouldn’t you be glad that I adore her? You’re lucky. Christy, in my class, her dad got remarried and she, like, _hates_ her stepmom.”

 

Will freezes with his hand on the door, once again only capable of blinking as his stomach bottoms out. A thousand and two thoughts bombard him at once and absolutely none of them materialize on his suddenly numb tongue. The idea of marrying Amelia isn’t new. It’s been an ever-present fantasy haunting his daydreams for years. But it’s not something anyone’s ever given voice to. And, somehow, hearing it aloud gives it a weight and a sharp edge of reality that has his heart slamming to a screaming stop almost as suddenly as it takes off, pounding in his chest. But there is something about the idea of it, something about _other_ people seeing it as a possibility, that lessens the weight of the day before. It’s only for a blip of a second, hitting him so fast and hard that he almost doesn’t know what happened. Except he does. He knows exactly what that feeling is. 

 

 _Hope_. 

 

The absurdity of it almost makes him laugh.

 

It only takes a second for Beth to catch up with what she just said.

 

“I mean, not that it’s the same thing, of course,” she says with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. It does nothing to hide the interesting shade of pink that colors her ears as she averts her eyes. “I just meant introducing important people to a kid’s life can go either way. And I not only gave her a chance, but I also really like her. You should be thanking me.” A thought hits her and she looks back at him with a sparkle in her eye and a delighted smile. “You should get us _both_ chocolates and flowers!”

 

Disbelief twists his face, but she just keeps giving him a toothy, hopeful grin.

 

Will shakes his head at her as he says the first thing that pops into his head. “Not jewelry?”

 

He knows it’s a mistake the second he opens his mouth because the light in Beth’s eyes grows dramatically in delight. “Okay!”

 

“Beth, I didn’t mean-”

 

“No take-backs!”

 

“Christmas is coming,” he replies, considering the matter closed.

 

She collapses back in her seat and crosses her arms with a pout. “Fine.”

 

Will shuts the door and rounds the car to the driver’s side. He climbs in and starts the engine, pulling out of the parking lot.

 

“But if you decide to buy Amelia a ring, I expect to come with you to pick it out.”

 

The choking noise he makes as he whips around to look at her is probably not the best response he could’ve given, but it’s exactly how he feels. He loves Amelia like he’ll never love another woman. He knows that. But most of the time, he can’t believe she’s still with him. Especially after yesterday. It’s only been a couple months and already being with him is threatening to collapse her entire world. That’s why she hasn’t texted him, isn’t it? Why she didn’t call him? He knows he should be the first one to make a move, but he can’t help thinking: if she really cared, she would have reached out to him by now. Will nearly bites through his tongue. That voice in the back of his head has been whispering, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yesterday he practically pushed it right out of her hand.

 

 _She should just get it over with_.

 

The dark thought closes Will’s throat and he spins back to the road, forcing himself to breathe.

 

“Christmas will be, like, what? Ten months since you started dating her?” Beth asks, misreading his reaction completely. “That’s a respectable time to wait, right? I’m calling dibs on bridesmaid. None of that flower girl stuff for me. I’m too old for that.”

 

His mind won’t stop _spinning_. “Beth… I’m… What?”

 

“For your wedding,” Beth tells him, as if it’s nothing at all. “Keep up, bro.”

 

Most of the time, Will’s pretty good about keeping up with her. He’s grown accustomed to her antics, can even predict them, ready to lob a fastball back as fast as she throws them. But this time she’s sent him reeling so much that he doesn’t even know where to _start_.

 

“ _Bro_?” he repeats, because that’s the easiest.

 

“Felt right.” Beth shrugs. “So, what’s the plan?”

 

Will blinks at the road. Everything about the seemingly innocent question screams forced-casual. When he glances at her in the rearview mirror, she’s crossed her legs and leans against her backpack as if she’s bored. Because she’s already accomplished what she meant to, didn’t she? She’s trying to introduce the idea, not force it. And because of that he can pretend like she didn’t say a damn thing.

 

_Thank God._

 

“Just heading home, I think,” he finally answers, mostly covering the strain in his voice.

 

Beth perks up, her eyes find him in the mirror. “Can I go swimming?”

 

“That depends. How’s the homework situation?”

 

“Just one paper, but it’s not due ‘til Monday,” she answers, brushing the idea off like it’s not a big deal.

 

Will clings to that with a desperation he can’t quite believe as he dives straight into full-on parent mode. “You don’t want to put it off.”

 

“I know, but I just got it,” Beth protests. “It’s fine. I only have to write five things I learned at our assembly today. That’s easy.”

 

“Don’t you think you should do that while you remember the assembly clearly?”

 

Beth rolls her eyes. “Not gonna be a problem. We had this big shot senator come in and talk about civic responsibility and how important voting is.” She starts ticking off ideas on her fingers as she talks. “I learned there are three branches of government. Every vote matters. I can’t vote ‘til I’m eighteen. I won’t vote for this dude when I can. And also he knows Amelia.”

 

Will slams on the brakes.

 

For a second the only sound in his head is the scream of alarm bells as he whips around in his seat to face Beth fully. It’s only because everyone else around them has auto-drive on that nobody crashes into his car. Later, he’ll beat the hell out of himself for that, for not being safer, for letting his stupid emotions control him like this, but right now all he can think is, _‘Oh God no.’_

 

“What?” he demands. He doesn’t even hear the horns of cars passing them. Beth does, though. She looks outside with wide eyes, her hands clutching her seatbelt. “Bethany!” he barks, making her jump and her eyes fly back to him. “What... Senator?”

 

“Senator Wolf or something,” she says, fidgeting in her seat. “The teachers were real excited about him coming. I guess they’d tried to get someone for a while. His schedule just cleared up.”

 

Fury like he’s never known roars through him as he growls, “Oh, I _bet_ it did.”

 

“Is that bad?” Beth asks, a nervous tremor in her voice, her eyes widening more. 

 

The innocent look she gives him nails the fury home. He’s not mad at her - never at her - but he could absolutely strangle the _hell_ out of Thad DeWolfe the Third right now. 

 

“I guess he knew who I was,” Beth rambles on, “because he kept calling on me and told everyone my _half_ -brother’s dad works in state government. I told him you weren’t half anything. He gave me that smile grown-ups do whenever they’re annoyed, but they don’t want you to know it. Then he told me that was obvious because I look just like you and that anyone would know I was your sister, only I didn’t like the way he said it. I really didn’t like him at all.”

 

Will can’t think. He can’t _breathe_. The edges of his vision blur, taking on a ruddy hue as all of his focus - as every inch of his being - centers on Bethy.

 

_She’s okay. She’s here. She’s safe. Nothing happened._

 

It barely helps, because he’s receiving Thad’s message loud and clear: _All the people you love are easy to get to. You can’t protect everyone. And we know your weak spot._  

 

The move is bold as hell, especially for Thad, and a small part of him wonders exactly how tied up in all of this the man is. Bile dances up Will’s throat as he shoves a hand through his hair. He fights to breathe as he turns to stare blindly out the passenger side window. This was a threat. A direct _threat_ to his baby sister. All because of Amelia’s testimony. It plunges everything she said yesterday into a harsh, ugly light. They will use him. Use _Bethy_.

 

His insides hollow out. It’s as simple as that. Anything could have happened today, and that’s the message Thad wanted to convey.

 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

 

“Not to be lame or anything, but you’re kinda scaring me right now.”

 

“What?” he rasps, whipping back to her. She jumps and Will curses under his breath. “Sorry,” he bites out. He swallows hard and digs his nails into his palms. The pain grounds him, letting him take a breath and form words. “I don’t want you talking to him again. Do you understand?”

 

Beth’s uncertainty shines through bright and clear. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

Will takes a ragged breath and pins her with an insistent look. “ _Bethy_.”

 

“It was a school assembly!” she protests. “Even if I knew to not go near this guy - which I didn’t - what was I supposed to do?”

 

The urge to snap almost takes over before Will bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He takes three strained breaths, trying to force his heart rate down before replying. It sorta works. “Tell your teacher you’re sick,” he suggests, his voice gravelly and uneven. “Go to the office and call me immediately. Do whatever you _have_ to, Beth. Do you hear me? He’s not a good man. I don’t trust him and I don’t want you near him. Okay?”

 

Beth doesn’t reply right away. She stares at him, rubbing her thumb over her chipped nail polish, suddenly looking small and hesitant. Will hates it. She’s this lively, vibrant, beautiful girl. She shouldn’t be scared. She shouldn’t shrink away. 

 

All of the blame for this falls on Thad.

 

Will’s nostrils flare as he clenches his jaw.

 

“What’d he do?” Beth whispers. “Did he hurt Amelia?”

 

“No,” Will replies, because it’s true in the way he knows she’s asking. But Thad _has_ hurt Amelia in more ways than she even seems to realize. His history with her is messy and the bastard’s done his share of damage along the way. “No. And I don’t want you thinking about this. He’s a bad man who works with bad people.”

 

“Well…” Beth shrugs. “He _is_ a politician. But, I mean, doesn’t he work with Oliver, too?”

 

“Yeah, but…” Will stops and sighs, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “It’s different, Beth. I don’t mean… It’s just different. Just promise me. If he or _anyone_ who makes you uncomfortable tries to talk to you again, you get somewhere safe and you call me.”

 

“I promise,” she agrees. 

 

Will stares at her until he’s sure she grasps the weight of his request. She’s uneasy enough that he decides he believes her, and it lets the smallest bit of tension bleed from his muscles.

 

“Good,” he says as another car horn blares nearby, traffic working its way around him. He doesn’t care in the least. “Good. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah,” Beth replies quietly. She glances around. “Can we maybe not stay parked in the middle of the road anymore?”

 

Will flinches and turns back to the steering wheel. “Yeah. But we have a change of plans. We’re going to see Jules. You can swim there. I need to go have a talk with someone.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Senator Thad DeWolfe the Third,” Will grits out as he stabs the screen of the self-drive system with his finger, selecting Jules and Alex’s address. He’s too shaky to navigate right now, and he doesn’t trust himself to drive safely, especially with Beth in the car. “He doesn’t get to do this and he needs to know it. It’s way past time he and I had a chat.”

 

Beth doesn’t say a word to that. In fact she stays uncharacteristically quiet for the whole drive. That’s fine. It’s better, really, because Will fumes the entire way. It’s as much fear as it is anger. Thad’s audacity is galling, but he’s far from the scariest figure involved in all of this. He’s merely a pawn, something he made clear to Amelia, but also something his actions scream.

 

Unless _he’s_ Domino.

 

The blood in Will’s veins freezes. It almost makes sense. He’s duplicitous enough, ambitious enough, amoral enough. He’s clever, too. It fits, he thinks, his heart speeding up again. On one hand, that would be incredibly vindicating. Sooner or later, Domino is going down. Team Arrow’s track record proves that. But on the other hand, his awareness of Beth puts her in an extremely vulnerable position and for that reason alone, Will prays he’s wrong.

 

But whether he is or not, it doesn’t change what happened today.

 

“You know you can call anyone in my family if something happens, right?” Will asks abruptly as they pull into Jules’ driveway. He turns to look at her in the backseat. “If you can’t reach me, I mean. You’ve got backup. My dad and Felicity, Jules and Ellie and Nate. Amelia or Alex, too. Or the Diggles. Even Roy or Eric. If anything creeps you out or someone scares you, even if you’re not sure it’s worth noticing, you can talk to any of them. They’ll believe you and they’ll take you seriously. I promise.”

 

Beth nods, her arms tightening around her backpack like the security blanket she used to carry everywhere when she was little. “Why, though?” she asks. “Why would this guy pay attention to me at all?”

 

“Because he works with bad people who don’t want Amelia to tell the truth in court,” Will tells her. “They’re trying to scare her into keeping quiet.”

 

“The people who killed the mayor?” she asks, worry furrowing her brow.

 

Ice drenches his insides. “How do you even know about that?”

 

“The internet?” Beth says, flinching as she says it.

 

“Beth,” Will breathes, clenching his hands into tight fists. Wishing he could keep her from seeing the worst parts of the world never seems to go away and the older she gets, the harder it is. He climbs out of the car, needing fresh air. Taking a fortifying breath, he goes to her door and yanks it open with a sharp, “There’s a _reason_ you’re not supposed to go online unsupervised.”

 

“I just wanted to look up Amelia,” she defends. As if that’s perfectly reasonable. “It was mostly looking at pictures, anyhow. But now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that senator was in some of them with her, too.”

 

“He was,” Will grumbles as she unbuckles and slides out of the car.

 

“You were, too, though,” Beth tells him as they walk to Jules’ front door. “You _kissed_ her at a ballgame on the big screen!” The dreamy look that takes over her face has the touch of a smile pulling at Will’s lips. “It was the sweetest thing _ever_ and there was a video clip, even. The way you two look at each other when the other one isn’t watching is the best thing in the whole world.”

 

Will’s not sure what to do with that. He’s never actually seen how Amelia looks at him when he’s not watching, but he has to think Beth’s being a little dramatic. Because she’s eleven and a romantic who believes in fairy tales.

 

He doesn’t get the chance to respond to her, though, because Jules’ dogs realize someone is at the door before they reach the front stoop. Both pups bark and paw at the front window with over-the-top levels of excitement. They get worse when Beth waves at them. Ember whines and presses her nose to the glass like maybe she can pass right through it with enough effort.

 

Jules opens the front door, surprise and worry lining her face. Her dogs flank her immediately, showering Beth with attention.

 

“Hey,” Jules says, eyes darting from Will to Beth and back again. “I wasn’t expecting you guys.”

 

“We like to be mysterious,” Beth informs her, lifting her chin in challenge. It’s a routine at this point, just the way Jules and Beth communicate. But, before Jules can respond, Bokeh demands to be pet. Beth quickly drops the attitude, not about to turn the aging yellow lab down. 

 

Will rolls his eyes at Beth before focusing on Jules. “Sorry for not calling. Something came up and I was hoping you could keep an eye on Beth for a bit. Make sure she stays safe.”

 

Jules jolts at the wording. She gives him a slow nod before resting a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Sure. Come on in, squirt. You can toss your backpack wherever. There’s snacks in the fridge if you want any, just make sure you don’t share any with the pups. But if you can reach their treats, you can give them each one.”

 

The word ‘treats’ sends the dogs into a state of manic euphoria that has Beth laughing. “Come on, puppies! Let’s get you _treats_!” she says before rushing to the kitchen with the dogs underfoot. How she doesn’t trip is beyond Will.

 

“What happened?” Jules asks the second she’s out of earshot.

 

“You know Thad DeWolfe paid Amelia a visit yesterday to try and convince her to back off on her testimony?”

 

Jules nods. “She called me last night.”

 

Will jolts at that. He’d assumed she heard about it when Amelia went to the bunker after leaving the firehouse, not that Amelia had actively sought Jules out specifically. A strange feeling he can’t quite name fills him at the knowledge that his sister and girlfriend are talking, but he ignores it.

 

“Today he showed up at Beth’s school for an impromptu assembly and singled her out.”

 

Jules inhales sharply at that. She looks from Will to the kitchen where Beth laughs and half-heartedly berates one of the dogs for jumping up to lick her face. Her voice is laden with caution as she turns back to him. “That’s aggressive.”

 

“No shit it’s aggressive,” Will snaps. He barely registers Jules’ eyebrow ticking up, but the sight of it has him gritting his teeth and shoving his hands through his hair. “Beth is off-limits. He doesn’t get to use her for his agenda. I don’t care who he’s working for, if it’s Domino, or if _he’s_ Domino, I don’t _care_. He doesn’t even get to be in the same room as her. She has _nothing_ do with any of this and he needs to know that.”

 

“Okay, Will. Would you…” Jules stops and runs her tongue along the flat of her teeth as she seems to gather herself. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. And I’ll keep her safe. You know that. But going after Thad alone is a bad plan. He’s always brought out the worst in you.”

 

Frustration twitches the muscles of Will’s cheek. “This is different. This is _Beth_.”

 

“Yeah,” Jules agrees. “It’s worse. Does that mean you _aren’t_ going to hit him this time?”

 

“ _Jules_.”

 

“Hey, I’m not saying you’re wrong to confront him,” she acknowledges. “But I am saying he gets under your skin like nobody else, so maybe showing up alone and pissed off isn’t as good a plan as it seems right now. Even if it _does_ feel good to be her protector and have a sense of purpose.”

 

Will jerks back like she’s hit him. “This isn’t about _me_. I’m not… I’m not using this as an excuse to make myself feel better.”

 

“No?” Jules demands, searching his eyes. “You sure about that?”

 

Will damn near growls. “I’m getting really tired of everyone I care about accusing me of things.”

 

“God, Will, don’t take it that way.”

 

“How else am I supposed to take it?” he asks, his voice rising. Beth gets quiet in the kitchen and with a curse, he immediately lowers his voice. But there’s no less intensity as he steps closer to his sister. “Am I supposed to be sorry that I care about her enough that I need to do something to fix this? Or sorry that I’m pissed there’s anything to fix in the first place? Because I’m not. I’ve _always_ been her protector and she’s _always_ given me a sense of purpose. It’s my job to look out for her and I don’t need anyone to hold my hand while I do that. Got it?”

 

Jules backs off with a nod that feels like an apology. “You might be right. But I’m also not wrong to be worried about you, Will. And I think you know that.”

 

He does. And, if he’s honest with himself, it’s part of why he hasn’t been spending much time with her outside of the bunker and weekly family dinners lately. She’s always seen through his mask more clearly than he’d like. It’s easier to steer clear of her on the days when he’s not totally together than to face that. He just wants to feel a little more whole, to avoid her seeing the cracks in his façade. It occurs to him that he’s not doing such a great job of hiding them right now.

 

Will shutters his face as much as he can and steps back. “Thank you for watching Beth,” he says instead of responding to her. Her eyes narrow and he averts his gaze to avoid her scrutiny, looking to the kitchen. “Have fun with the pups, Beth. Don’t forget about your homework.”

 

“Yep,” Beth replies, sticking a waving hand through the doorway. “See ya! Feel free to step on that guy’s toes for me!”

 

That is petty as hell, and yet the thought of it fills Will with a dark glee.

 

He turns to leave, but Jules’ hand grabs his arm with a low, “Hey.” He turns, fixing his eyes on her fingers against his sleeve before looking up at her. She sighs as she wars with what to say. “Keep your head on straight, okay? If you don’t, he wins.”

 

“Can’t have that,” he replies, swallowing hard.

 

“No,” she agrees, letting him go. “We definitely can’t.”

 

It feels like an agreement, tentative as it is. Will gives her a nod before turning and heading back to his car, leaving Jules and Beth behind.

 

The minute he’s alone, the gravity of everything slams into him.

 

He gasps, panic rushing through his veins. Beth’s his weak spot. She always has been. But she’s so far removed from all things Team Arrow and he’s only occasionally been involved in missions. Even when he is, he’s limited to working on the comms. So, she hasn’t seemed more at risk than any other kid in the city. Not with men like Domino.

 

But if Thad’s working with Domino - or if he _is_ Domino - then that changes _everything_.

 

The red haze from earlier colors his vision again, bringing a clarity that only anger can.

 

Thad doesn’t have an apartment in Starling, at least as far as Will knows. But he does have an office based here. It’s a shot in the dark that he’ll even be there. He could have meetings elsewhere or be spending the afternoon lounging around a hotel. And if he’s not at his office, that means either asking Amelia for her insights or Felicity for her tracking skills. Will has zero desire to involve either of them.

 

This is between him and Thad, and he wants it to stay that way.

 

With a quick search for the address, Will pulls out of Jules’ driveway.

 

Stop lights blur as he stares straight ahead, his car driving itself. The other vehicles on the road pass in a haze. He’s worlds away, half a lifetime away, thinking of all the moments in her life that Beth’s relied on him, all the times she’s looked up to him with such belief and trust that he could keep her safe. But he failed on that today, didn’t he? Thad made good on his promise to Amelia, making it incredibly, painfully clear how easy it would be to bring everything crashing down.

 

Will chokes at the thought.

 

He almost lost her when she was a year and a half old, before he even knew how much he could love her, before he had any idea what a fundamental part of his life she would become. That memory is branded into his mind as surely as the tattoo in his mother’s honor is branded on his shoulder. Parts of that day are a blur, racing through the hospital with his father at his side, looking for his stepfather and the answers he already partly suspected. Other parts are crisp and clear, like the way David had choked out that his mom was gone, how he’d barely managed to get out that they weren’t sure about Beth.

 

It had been touch-and-go for weeks. Every single damn day the nurses had gently reminded him that they couldn’t make any promises. But he’d have known that even without the words. She’d had so many tubes and wires running into her little body. And the line of stitches across her belly seemed way too big for someone so small. Watching her lying there with her tiny chest rising and falling, with precious few other signs of life, the guilt of having resented her very existence before the accident left him feel like he was drowning.

 

 _“Don’t you dare take her away from me, too,”_ he’d whispered, curling her whole hand around one of his fingers and stroking it with his thumb. He’s never been one for prayer, never been much of a believer in anything spiritual, but those words had needed to be spoken aloud. _“Not her. Don’t you dare.”_

 

She’s beaten the odds, day after day. His Bethy’s always been a fighter. But she shouldn’t _have_ to be. He’d decided that at twenty-three when Beth’s fingers had twitched against his hand as she’d whimpered in her medically-induced slumber. 

 

Whatever he has to do to protect her, to let her be a child with as much joy as she can find in her life, he’s gonna do it.

 

That includes shielding her from people like Thad.

 

A handful of cars sit in the parking lot to Thad’s office building, which makes sense for a late Friday afternoon. Most people have probably left, which is good, as long as none of them are Thad. Will definitely doesn’t want an audience. He parks and checks his phone as he gets out of the car. 

 

A handful of texts light up the screen, all of them from his father.

 

_OQ: You sure you wanna do this alone?_

 

_OQ: Will, I can meet you wherever you need. Suit or no suit. Just tell me._

 

_OQ: I get it. It’s Beth. I know what she means to you. But keep your head on straight._

 

_OQ: Some kind of reply might be smart before I have Felicity track your phone, William._

 

Jules called him, Will realizes, staring at the screen with dim comprehension. Of course she did. She’ll probably call Alex, too, and Amelia, if she hasn’t already. He’s never once doubted her loyalty to him, but her sense of responsibility to the team and to the family has grown by leaps and bounds over the last two years. She’s older, more cautious, and more tactical.

 

It’s a pain in the ass, even if it is probably smarter. Maybe the team should be dropping by with masks on and a truly terrifying array of weapons to point at Thad’s squirrely face, but Beth’s his responsibility, not theirs. He’s not willing to give that up.

 

_WQ: just parked. was driving. i got this. have mom look @ his schdle & contacts in the last few wks, plz? _

 

The three dots indicating his father is typing appear, and it takes a while for them to stop. Will wonders how much he changes his mind before a succinct answer comes through.

 

_OQ: Will do. Touch base when you’re done._

 

There’s nothing about that statement that Will takes as a request. It’s an order. 

 

_WQ: yup_

 

He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead pocketing his phone and heading into the office building. A couple of people leaving for the day offer him a smile as they pass. For once, he has to force himself to return the gesture. 

 

An old-fashioned directory made of marble and brass points him to Thad’s office. It’s as pretentious as he is, so Will thinks it suits the building just fine.

 

Thad’s office is on the first floor, not far from the main entrance, and Will finds it easily. The oversized wood door is wide open and inside a woman who appears to be some kind of receptionist or office manager looks up with a pleasant, dimpled smile. “Hello there. Can I help you?”

 

“I’m here to see the senator,” Will tells her, his voice tighter than he’d like. He forces himself to breathe, but it does nothing to loosen the knot in his chest.

 

The woman purses her lips as she glances at her computer monitor. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any appointments for him in the books. Had you arranged something with him?”

 

“He’ll see me.”

 

“I see,” she replies, her eyes dancing down his tense frame. She clears her throat. “Well, I’ll have to see if he’s free. He’s an extremely busy man. May I tell him who’s asking for him?”

 

“No need.”

 

Thad’s voice scrapes down Will’s spine like nails on a chalkboard and he has to fight a shudder. But he can’t fight the rush of fury that sweeps over him. Biting the tip of his tongue, he looks over to find the interior office door cracked open with the senator standing in the threshold, a smug grin on his face.

 

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to pay me a visit,” Thad continues. “I admit, I thought it would be sooner.”

 

Will pushes down the urge to act, instead gritting his teeth as he forces a chilling smile. “Big of you to admit you made a mistake.” 

 

“Mister Senator…” his assistant starts, eyes darting between them.

 

“You should take the rest of the day off, Kari,” Thad says, flashing her a toothy grin. “Jumpstart on the weekend.”

 

“Alright,” she agrees after a beat. Will can feel her wary suspicion. “If you’re certain, sir.”

 

“Quite,” Thad tells her. “This isn’t business. It’s personal. Mr. Queen and I have a bit of catching up to do.”

 

“Oh.” Kari reevaluates Will for a moment before shutting down her computer and locking her desk drawers. She grabs her purse and stands. “Alright then. Have a good weekend, Mister Senator… Mr. Queen.”

 

“You too,” Will forces himself to say. It’s almost affable. “Good to meet you, Kari.”

 

Her answering nod is polite, but he has the distinct feeling she’s putting up a front. Considering her apparent loyalty to her boss, that’s a good instinct on her part.

 

“Come in, Will,” Thad says, pushing his office door open more. “Let’s _chat_.”

 

The inflection on that word sends a shudder down Will’s spine that he can’t fight, but he covers it by moving. He’s not going to cower in front of this man, he doesn’t care _who_ he is. And he proves that by glowering at him as he steps into the office, not saying a word until he hears both Thad’s door click shut and the main office door close as Kari leaves. 

 

But when he does, he gets straight to the point.

 

“She’s off-limits,” Will growls without looking back at the other man.

 

“Which _‘she’_ are you referring to, I wonder,” Thad muses as he moves back to his desk. Will turns, watching his movement with barely-restrained animosity. Thad sits down on the edge of his desk, sending Will a bored look. “Amelia? Bethany? One of your other sisters? Your stepmother? Not _all_ of them, surely. That’s a great many people to declare off-limits, don’t you think?”

 

Will clenches his hands into tight fists, the muscles in his arms bunching.

 

“Oh yes.” Thad nods, leaning forward from his perch. “Do hit me again. Let’s renew that statute of limitations right before I take the stand. You’re not the one on trial, of course, but we can change that.”

 

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

 

“Pity,” Thad announces. “It would’ve simplified things so much.”

 

“Whatever the hell game you’re playing?” Will snaps, taking a step forward before he can stop himself. “Whoever you’re playing it with? You’re going to leave Bethany out of it.”

 

Thad smirks and laces his fingers together. “It’s charming you think that you have any control whatsoever. Nearly as charming as the idea that you think I do. None of this is _me_. You and I are just pieces being moved about a chess board. The difference is that you’re a pawn. I’m a rook. Some sacrifices are easier made than others. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re safe here. You’re not. And neither are any of the other _‘she’s’_ you might’ve meant before.”

 

All the hair on the back of Will’s neck stands up on end. “I understand Amelia is neck-deep in all of this because of her testimony,” he says. “But she can take care of herself.”

 

“Can she?” Thad asks, pushing off his desk and stepping toward Will. It’s not a physically threatening move, but the keen interest in the man’s eye as he tilts his head says otherwise. “Can she _really_? From Domino’s boys? How many of them can she take on at once, do you think? How many until it’s too much and you come home to find her body battered and lifeless on your living room floor? Because that is _exactly_ what Domino does. And despite what you may think of me, that is precisely the thing I’m trying to prevent.”

 

The image he paints hits Will so hard it knocks the air out of his lungs. His imagination takes care of the rest, filling in the blanks - _Amelia bloody, broken, shattered, his worst fears come true_ \- and for a second he swears he feels the weight of her body as he picks her up in his mind’s eye, feels her matted hair, sees her lifeless features. 

 

It stuns him silent.

 

All of that must show on his face because Thad presses his advantage, slinking a little closer and studying him far more intently than Will would be comfortable with if he wasn’t drowning in thoughts of finding Amelia like that.

 

“You know what that’s like, right?” Thad asks quietly. “Finding a body. How there’s nothing left in the eyes, like the soul’s been destroyed and there’s nothing left but a shell. You’re a firefighter. You must’ve seen things like that before.”

 

“She’s not…” Will starts, but he has to stop, swallowing back the urge to throw up.

 

“Listen to me carefully, William,” Thad says, locking eyes with him. “You will lose her. He will kill her. The only way to protect her and everyone else you care about is to convince her to make her testimony shaky.”

 

“I can protect her,” Will breathes, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He needs to believe that, needs it to be true.

 

The pitying smile Thad gives him says he doesn’t buy a word of it. 

 

“Perhaps,” the other man agrees before his lips twist in a rueful grin. “If you’re there. If you’re sober.” Will flinches and Thad latches onto the tell like a shark with blood in the water. “Personally, I can’t believe she’s put up with the drinking for this long. She must really love you. But what a burden to place on her in the first place.”

 

“My relationship with Amelia is none of your business,” Will growls, but even he can hear the slight waver in his voice that belies his fear that Thad’s right.

 

“Of course it is,” Thad counters, shaking his head. “That’s why we’re having this conversation in the first place. If it weren’t for-”

 

“You threatened my eleven-year-old sister!” Will snaps. “ _That’s_ why we’re having this conversation.”

 

Something flickers in Thad’s eyes at the accusation. He almost looks unsettled before he schools his features. Stepping back, he stretches his neck, blinking fiercely. “I did no such thing. I gave a talk at her school, as I’d been asked to.”

 

“Bullshit. You know better and so do I. You showed up there to prove you _could_ show up there, to point out so very vividly that you and the rest of Domino’s boys can get at her anytime you want.”

 

“I am _not_ one of his men,” Thad hisses.

 

“Really?’ Will asks. “Could’ve fooled me. You might not have the mask, but you’re clearly doing his bidding. Do you think that makes you better? It doesn’t. You don’t need a mask to be a villain, Thad. All you need is to be yourself.”

 

“I’m a _survivor_ ,” Thad counters, his façade cracking. A sharp glimpse of irritation shines through the thin veneer he shows to everyone. “I do what I have to do so that I can keep breathing. I recommend you do the same.”

 

“You put a target on my baby sister’s back!” Will shouts.

 

“No, William. _You_ did that!” Thad retorts in a sharp, rageful declaration. Will blinks at the sudden display of emotion. Frustration and fear pour off of Thad as he slashes his hand through the air. “The minute you introduced them, you did that. Amelia, of all people, was going to attach to a motherless child in a _heartbeat_. Of _course_ she would. And right now, anyone - _anyone_ \- Amelia cares about is someone Domino’s got his eye on. She was always going to love that little girl. Come to think of it, maybe _that’s_ why she’s willing to put up with so much from you in the first place. Is that the case, William? Did you need a mommy for your little sister and Amelia fit the bill?”

 

The worst thing isn’t that Will hasn’t considered that before. The worst thing is that he wonders if it’s true.

 

Will shakes his head. “You don’t know a damn thing about us.”

 

“I know that if you love her, you’ll convince her to weaken her testimony,” Thad answers. “I know that sometimes survival means making deals you don’t like. How in the hell do you think I kept her safe and successful for so long? Who do you think was behind the scenes making sure she didn’t step too far out of bounds? It wasn’t by chance that she rose to prominence.”

 

“You _used_ her,” Will tells him. “You used her and you made deals she never would’ve agreed to.”

 

“I kept her _alive_ ,” Thad snaps back. “Let’s see you do the same. Let’s see you think beyond the obvious and look at the bigger picture. She dove head-first into a tank full of sharks without looking. They will eat her alive, William. They’ll snap her up until there’s nothing left. So get her the fuck out of the water.”

 

It’s too much. It’s too _big_ , and he doesn’t know how to process all of it, much less respond. The web slowly closing in around him - around _Amelia_ \- is so sticky, filled with too many pitfalls, too many things that linger in the shadows... Things he can’t even _see_ to fight.

 

Everything was fine a couple days ago. Everything was so much simpler.

 

Will reels, his mind jumping from point to point, unable to pause long enough to focus on any of it. He can’t understand how they got here, and he hates how naïve that makes him feel. He hates it almost as much as he hates how much of a role Thad played in all of it.

 

“What did they offer you?” Will demands. “How did you even get involved in this in the first place?”

 

“This is politics,” Thad counters. “I was born into this, same as you.”

 

“No.” Will shakes his head. “You and I are nothing alike.”

 

“You’re hardly Robert Queen the Third, but parts of this were always going to be a factor in your life,” Thad replies. “Men like you and I are the sons and grandsons of men who built the world. We don’t have the luxury of distancing ourselves from that. The difference between us is that I learned to use it to my advantage while you chose to run into burning buildings and drink away the memories just to sleep at night.”

 

“Keep pretending that what you do is somehow more important than what I do,” Will says. “I’m sure that’s how _you_ sleep at night.”

 

“I’m poised to make a far bigger impact than you ever will.”

 

Something about the wording clicks in Will’s head and he narrows his eyes. “Because of this. That’s what they offered you, isn’t it? Power. Influence. A more important position.”

 

Thad’s face turns to stone. A thin, disconcerting smile plays on his lips. It’s a stark counterpoint to the frustration he’d let bleed through a few moments ago. “We all find ourselves in distasteful situations from time to time. But there are advantages to be found within them. Even at the worst of times.”

 

Will scoffs. “That’s all this is about for you. They’re giving you whatever you want in the next election, aren’t they?”

 

Thad can’t quite hide his smirk. “They can’t give me what I want. But they can get me a step away from it. That’ll do for now.”

 

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Will bites out. It amazes him how Amelia missed it for so long, all the things she overlooked. Everything she _still_ overlooks.

 

“Well, you’re not exactly the Prince Charming you advertise yourself to be either, are you?” Thad asks. “I’ll say this for you, though. You were consistent and determined in your efforts to sweep her off her feet. And it seems to have worked, despite your failings.” He stands up taller, a more congenial smile crossing his face. “I’m going to pour myself a whisky. Can I get you one? I seem to recall you have moderately decent taste, though it appears as if anything with a solid proof will do these days.”

 

“Fuck you,” Will retorts.

 

Thad’s smile doesn’t go anywhere as he huffs out an answering chuckle. He walks over to a small bar in the corner and Will’s eyes follow his every move. Not because he wants a drink, no. It’s because he doesn’t want to let that asshole out of his sight for even a single second.

 

That’s all.

 

But as Thad opens a decanter and slowly pours a drink, he can’t help his eyes drifting down, can’t help the rush of saliva at the smell of it, or the twitch of his hand.

 

He must stare at the amber liquid just a little too long because Thad hums under his breath.

 

“My, my,” he says, taking a small sip. “You do have a problem, don’t you?”

 

Fire rushes through Will’s gut and it has nothing to do with why he’s there. He forces himself to meet Thad’s eye, ignoring the urge to look at the glass again when the other man takes another sip.

 

“Think what you want,” Will says. “At least I’m not making deals to let gangsters and murderers take over the city.”

 

“I’m sure it seems exactly that simple to you,” Thad says as he sets his glass down.

 

“Because it is,” Will replies. “And the other thing that’s simple is that you’re going to make sure no one lays a finger on Bethany. Not now. Not ever.”

 

Thad rolls his eyes. “Now why am I going to stick my neck out to do _that_?”

 

“Because, _Thad_ ,” Will growls, closing the few steps that separate them until they’re nearly nose-to-nose. Even the hint of whisky lingering in the air doesn’t cut through the anger filling Will’s chest. “If you or any of Domino’s boys so much as _breathe_ in her direction ever again, I’ll make it my life’s mission to destroy your whole career. I haven’t touched my trust fund in my entire life, but if anyone goes near my little girl again, I will donate the entire fucking thing to whoever runs against you for office. _All_ of it. Sixty fucking million dollars, Thad. Good luck winning so much as a country water board seat then, you piece of shit.”

 

For once it seems as though Will’s landed a palpable hit. 

 

Thad huffs even as his face pales. “Well, how about that? You do have it in you, after all.”

 

Discomfort settles over Will like a wool blanket. It’s suffocating and itchy. He swallows hard, but doesn’t move, because he’ll take this any day over an active threat to Beth. There’s nothing he won’t do for her.

 

“I’m trying to save all our lives, even if you don’t like my methods,” Thad says, his voice uneven. “Now, how about you channel that anger somewhere more productive than _me_ and get the fuck out of my office.”

 

The only satisfying thing about the entire exchange is how the door rattles when Will slams it behind him. But that’s it. Because he can’t be certain that he achieved anything.

 

Maybe he’s helped ensure Beth’s safety. _Maybe_.

 

But that’s not the only thing he takes away from the meeting. Thad’s words had pushed and teased at the edges of his imagination the whole time he stood in the other man’s presence. And now, without a distraction, it hits him full force.

 

No matter what he does, he can’t shake the image of Amelia bleeding out on his floor, Domino’s boys getting the best of her, taking her life and Will none the wiser until it’s too late. Will _letting_ it happen, not being able to stop it, to protect her, to keep her safe. He’s not enough - he’s _never_ been enough. His skin crawls at the realization. 

 

 _He’s not enough_.

 

Will doesn’t remember leaving the building. He doesn't remember the walk to his car. He does remember texting his father, just a brief message assuring him that Thad’s in one piece. But that’s the beginning and end of his awareness. Some part of him knows enough to direct his car back to his house, but even that’s vague and unclear. His head pounds and his heart races, both of them a million miles away, running through a macabre series of what-if’s that leave him spinning with terrifying possibility.

 

Amelia would’ve been safer back home with her mom. She never should have come here. This fucking city is meant for the likes of him, not her. It leaves everyone bruised and battered, leaves fingerprints on throats and scars that never heal. It never should’ve touched her. She never should’ve let _him_ touch her.

 

His throat burns with a familiar ache and the phantom scent of whisky clings to his nose, setting off a craving for _more_.

 

Will chokes out a rueful laugh. Thad was right. _Amelia_ was right. God, but he doesn’t care. Not when it’s _her_ dead eyes staring up at him from the floor, her blood cooling on his carpet, her life seeping away. He can’t care right now. He needs a drink. He needs to erase the images from his mind, has to get rid of them before they root deeper. He needs to burn them away so badly he can taste it. A chill dances down his spine at the memory of Thad pouring that whisky and he wishes he’d taken some. Hell, he wishes he’d taken the entire damned bottle, anything to put between himself and the sight of her broken body and lifeless eyes.

 

Oh God, what if he catches her last breath? What if he gets there just in time to hear, _“Shouldn’t have come back. Was a mistake. Wasn’t worth it.”_

 

And then she’d fade right in front of him, taking the last few worthwhile parts of him with her.

 

 _Fuck_ , why can he see it so damn clearly?

 

Because it’s inevitable, isn’t it? That’s why. All he can give her is pain and death.

 

Will doesn’t realize his car’s stopped until movement catches the corner of his eye. It’s his neighbor coming home, he realizes with a start. He looks around wildly. How long has he been sitting here? The car shut off long enough ago that it’s cold.

 

“Damn it,” he rasps, climbing out in a series of jerky movements. He doesn’t look up when his neighbor greets him, doesn’t reply when someone else waves, doesn’t care about the people he’s known for years as they make their way home after work.

 

The minute he’s in his condo, he shuts his drapes, blocking the outdoors and the deep orange hue of the summertime sun starting to set. It’s late, some part of his brain tells him, but the thought is gone in the next second. 

 

He pulls the self-made darkness around him and stumbles into the kitchen, yanking open the cupboard where he keeps the whisky. 

 

Except there isn’t any there.

 

“Shit,” he breathes, spinning to his sofa. He’s out in the living room in the blink of an eye, to where he left the bottle from last night. It’s empty. Panic hits him so hard that he can’t breathe as he snatches the bottle up. He shakes it, but there’s barely a drop. He grabs his abandoned tumbler next, but there’s nothing left except a sticky residue. He slams the cup down on his coffee table with a sharp, “Damn it!”

 

His pinky catches the edge of the hard glass, smashing it, and he drops it with another curse.

 

God, what is he doing?

 

What he has to. The only thing he has. 

 

That thought leaves him scrambling for another outlet. There’s nothing, though. Just the maw of terror and panic tearing at his insides as his eyes shift to stare at the living room floor. As if it’s already happened, he sees Amelia lying there, a bloodied shell of her former self. He can’t control his thoughts, can’t push them away, can’t get rid of them - _go away, go away, go away_ \- and with a growled cry, he shuts his eyes and presses the heels of his palms against them. It does nothing to help. And, when he opens his eyes again, she’s still right there. The walls start pushing in. Part of him wants to claw his way out, to scream for help and find a way free. But another part, somewhere deep inside him, wants to burrow in and let it all collapse, creating a tomb of his mind’s own making.

 

“Hey.”

 

Will jumps at the voice, spinning in place with wide, wild eyes. Amelia stands in his doorway. She’s alive and beautiful and _perfect_. Too perfect for him. Too perfect for this hellhole of a place. How selfish he’s been to keep her here, to inflict himself on her.

 

It could have happened at any time. They could have been _here_ and he wouldn’t have been able to stop it.

 

 _Go. Leave. Get away_.

 

The words rattle in his mind, but all he does is stare at her.

 

“Honey, are you okay?” she asks, concern furrowing her brow as she takes a step toward him.

 

Will sucks in a harsh breath as he falls back, holding his hand up to ward her off. The twist of pained confusion in her eyes makes him want to spill everything, to confess every thought he’s had and beg her for help.

 

But he’s already done enough. 

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Will rasps, his voice breaking in the middle.

 

“What are you talking about?” Amelia glances around the room before looking back at him. “I was supposed to drop by after work for dinner. We talked about it. Is somethi-”

 

“No,” he interrupts. “You shouldn’t be _here_. In this apartment. With me. In this _city_. You should never have come back in the first place.”

 

Her concern for him shifts on a dime. She leans back, her eyes growing distant as she presses her lips into a thin line. That’s good, he thinks. She’s protecting herself. 

 

She should.

 

“I’m happy that I’m back here,” Amelia says, her voice guarded. He can hear the tremor of uncertainty under her words, even as she meets his eyes. “And I’m happy that I’m with you.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Amelia,” Will snaps on a sob, giving a helpless shrug. “For how long?”

 

Amelia startles. A hundred different emotions wash over her face as she tries to process his question. But he knows she gets it. He sees it in the way her lips tremble as she says, “For always, Will.”

 

The words are soft and a little broken. Because of _him_. He did that. God, it makes him sick already. The urge to collapse in her arms and sob, to beg her to _make_ him believe her, pulls at him. Because he wants to believe her. He wants to _so badly_. But the voice that lives in the darkest recesses of his mind and speaks only in a language of self-loathing and doubt pushes itself to the forefront.

 

“That would be new for you,” he says. Amelia jerks back like he’s slapped her. Her hip collides with the little table where she always tosses her keys. She chokes out his name and he takes a sick sense of strength from it, using it to propel himself forward, his eyes nailing her in place. “You _run_ , Amelia. The minute things get hard or uncertain, you run. It’s what you’ve always done. I can’t believe you’re still here. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that the longer you stay, the closer we get to you leaving. So why don’t you just end it now. Just pack a bag and go back home where people like Domino and Thad and I can’t reach you.”

 

“You… You’re lumping yourself in with _them_?” she asks, her voice cracking on tears. “Will… I’m not-”

 

“Why are you _here_ , Amelia?” he snaps, his hands balling into tight fists. It’s the only thing that’s keeping him from reaching out and shaking her until she finally says the words that have to be sitting on the tip of her tongue.

 

_Because I feel bad for you. Because you need me and I’m too nice to go. Because I pity you._

 

“Because I belong here!” Amelia shouts, waving her arms like it’s obvious. “Because I’m sick and tired of settling for a life I never really wanted in the first place. So I’m  _here_ , taking risks and taking chances because it’s _worth it_.”

 

“Is it?” he whispers, shaking his head. “Is it really? Because I don’t think it is.”

 

“What the hell happened to you?” she demands. There’s so much pain in her eyes and he knows he’s the one who put it there. It makes him hate himself a little bit more. He almost laughs because a minute ago he hadn’t thought that was possible. “I-I didn’t… I know we need to talk things out, but this is-”

 

He ignores her. “I think you’re here because it’s easy.”

 

“ _Excuse_ me?” she breathes out in utter disbelief.

 

“You had to know I was going to love you no matter how much time passed,” he tells her. His throat closes when the words are out. He wants to push her away, wants to hurt her until there’s nothing left, until she realizes she can’t be with him anymore. But as he speaks, he can’t help but wonder if they’re not a little bit true. Will chokes on that thought, his voice uneven as he continues. “I’d have dropped everything for you for a fucking decade and you _knew_ it. So why not come back here, right? You have a seemingly great job and a readymade boyfriend and a sweet little girl who was ready to love you like the mother she never had. You had a whole life waiting for you and all you had to do was reach out and take it.”

 

Amelia gasps, her chest stuttering like she can’t breathe as she presses her hand to her stomach. She looks gutted. _Because it’s all true_ , the monster in his mind tells him. 

 

“Have you been drinking?” she whispers, tears filling her eyes.

 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t. But that’d be easier, wouldn’t it? Because you’ve decided I’m an alcoholic. It doesn’t matter what I say, it’s the whisky talking. Right?”

 

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

 

“Isn’t it?” he shouts.

 

“You need help, Will,” she chokes out. A tear slips down her cheek and his face crumples as he watches her struggle to speak. “It’s not _just_ the drinking. It’s… It’s everything. You’ve been dealing with everything alone for way too long. You don’t let me in. You don’t let _anyone_ in. You have flashbacks and nightmares. You get moody and you panic. You close yourself off and you pretend everything’s fine. Well, it’s _not_ fine! You’re _sick_. And I think you know that. Maybe you’re not willing to put a name to it, but I will. You have PTSD. You use alcohol to try and cope, but it’s failing you and you’re scared as hell because you don’t know what to do, so you’re pushing me away.”

 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing down the sickening knowledge that she’s right. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t _fix_ anything. He’s too broken to be fixed and the last thing she needs is to be saddled with someone like him. “I sound like an amazing catch. I can see why you stay.”

 

Frustration twists her brow and he can see her gritting her teeth against it. “I hate what you’re fighting,” Amelia says, her eyes sharpening. “And I’d hate any physical illness you were battling, too. The fact that it’s mental illness doesn’t make a difference. It’s a _sickness_. I hate what it’s doing to you, but I… I _love_ you, Will. Please… Please _hear me_ when I say that.”

 

It’s not a distinction he understands. Or, maybe more accurately, one he believes. This is pity. That’s all it is. This isn’t love. It’s as bad as the idea of her playing nursemaid while he’d healed from being shot.

 

When she lets out a ragged sob, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, Will just scoffs.

 

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” she asks from behind her fingers. “It doesn’t matter that I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, because you don’t believe me. I can say that I love you a million times, I can show you a thousand different ways, but you’re still not going to trust that it’s real. You are so far gone that you can’t see how anyone could love you. Not when you don’t even like yourself.”

 

Will’s face turns to stone, his eyes drifting to the floor. He doesn’t say a word.

 

“What’s it going to take for you to believe me?” Amelia shouts. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? What do you want from me?”

 

 _Stay. Tell me I’m wrong. Say it over and over until it starts to sink in_.

 

“I want you to go,” he says instead, his voice dull and lifeless. She squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head toward the ceiling, covering her face. “I want…” His voice breaks and he almost pleads for her to help him instead. But he can’t. The price is too high. “I want us to be done. I want you to leave. I want you to stop talking to Beth before things get worse. Before she gets even more attached. I want… You were always going to leave, Amelia. It was only a matter of when.”

 

“I’m _right here_ ,” she growls, dropping her hands to glare at him. “I’m not the one leaving, Will.” Her face is a mess of tear tracks, her nose reddened. His hands itch to reach out and soothe her, to take it all back and beg her to stay. But he doesn’t move and the longer he stays in place, the longer he doesn’t reach out, the more she crumbles before him. “God, Will, you said you never wanted to be the reason I hurt. Well, you’re failing. You’re _hurting_ me. And I… I’ve been…” She stops and sobs, swaying in place as she tries to gather herself enough to get the words out. “I’ve been choked and I’ve looked down the barrel of a gun and I’ve never felt so much like I’m dying as I do right now.”

 

Her words are the final nail.

 

“You deserve better than me,” Will whispers.

 

Amelia - perfect, gorgeous, brilliant Amelia - deserves everything good in this world, all the things he can’t give her. He wishes he could. Maybe the man he’d been years ago could’ve given her the kind of life and love and relationship she deserves. But he’s gone. He died on the floor of a museum with broken champagne glass digging into his hip and a crossbow bolt in his gut. 

 

They should’ve left him there, let him bleed out.

 

“I deserve better than the way you are right now,” she agrees, nodding. “I deserve better than _this_. And, Will, I know you don’t believe it, but so do you. Because in all of this, the one thing you haven’t said to try and make me leave is that you don’t love me.”

 

“You deserve more than a lie,” he replies. She flinches, the statement holding far more layers of meaning than either of them would like. “But it also doesn’t matter. I’ve loved you for nearly half my life, Amelia. But it was never enough before. I don’t know why I thought it would be this time.”

 

“Your love was always enough for me,” she breathes, looking so lost and small, making his chest ache. “ _I_ was the broken one. I was the weak one. That was my fault. And I learned from it. But… But maybe I learned too late.”

 

Will shakes his head. “Maybe it was just… never meant to be.”

 

“You said it was,” she reminds him. “You said you were meant for me. You said I was yours and you weren’t letting me go. You said you couldn’t lose me. And you meant those things. I _know_ you did.”

 

“Maybe,” he says, the word so soft he barely hears it. “Maybe… before.”

 

“Will,” she sobs before pressing her lips together into a thin, white line. 

 

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything. He just stares at her, finally letting her see how little is left inside him. There’s nothing. He’s a husk, not meant for anyone. He’s supposed to be alone. And he doesn’t want to inflict his presence on anyone he cares about. Not anymore.

 

“Can we just… talk?” she asks. “Can we sit down and just take time to sort this out?”

 

“I can’t say anything you want to hear.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Amelia counters, taking a step towards him. The glimmer of hope on her face is misplaced and it hurts because he knows he’ll only let her down. Again. It’s all he’s capable of. “You _can_. Say you’ll talk to your dad or Jules about everything going on in your head. Say you’ll talk to a therapist or even some of the guys at work about the nightmares. Say you’ll go to an AA meeting. I’ll even go with you. Just… Just say you’ll fight for yourself, Will… even if you won’t fight for us. _Please_.”

 

“I’m not a problem you can _fix_ ,” he snaps, a sour, irksome feeling filling the void in his gut. “I’m not some project you can work on and then pat yourself on the back about. Oh, _poor, broken Will_ , look how much better he is since Amelia came along and patched him up. So good of her to take time and pour that much effort into him, isn’t it? I don’t want your pity. And if you need someone to give your life meaning, you’re looking in the wrong fucking place. Go sign up for some volunteer work. I don’t want to be your charity case.”

 

Her eyes narrow, a vivid mixture of anger and hurt twisting her face. “It’s not _pity_ , you idiot. I love you. I want you to be healthy. This isn’t about me _fixing_ you. It’s about wanting you to stop sabotaging your own goddamn life. I’m sure it would be so much easier for you to do all of this if I didn’t care. But guess what, I do! And that doesn’t stop just because you tell me we’re through and I should leave.”

 

“You’re right,” he says, licking his lips and looking at her darkly. “I did tell you to leave.”

 

“Fine,” she breathes out, throwing her hands up. “Fine, I’ll go. Call me when you decide to start acting like yourself again.”

 

“This is me, Amelia,” Will tells her, his jaw tight and eyes cold. “Sorry if you’re just now realizing that. But then again you’ve never been very good at seeing the men in your life for who they are, have you? How many years did you spend fucking Thad?”

 

Amelia winces, her lips pursing as she bites the tip of her tongue to keep her tears at bay. “Too many,” she admits, her voice breaking. “But I never gave him the power to hurt me like you are right now. None of my time with him haunts me. You will.”

 

She’s not the only one. 

 

The ghost of her body against his will linger. The sound of her laughter and the feel of her fingertips against his skin, the curve of her smile and the way she could make his heart beat faster with just a look. The best moments of his life will twist into nightmares that taunt him, reminding him that he was never good enough to keep any of it.

 

No, she’s not the only one who will be haunted. But at least she’ll be able to keep moving forward instead of being weighed down by him. 

 

“Well,” Will says with a tired shrug. “I guess that was your mistake.”

 

“No,” Amelia snaps, hiking her purse up her shoulder. “It wasn’t. And when you figure that out, you know where to find me.”

 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

 

The last thing he sees is Amelia’s face falling with more tears streaming across her cheeks as he turns away. He doesn’t watch her leave, doesn’t react when she whispers his name again, but he feels it the instant she’s gone. It’s like her presence brought the only life there was to the room, like the only spark of _him_ that was left went out the door with her. It’s only when the door shuts with a quiet click that he lets out an unsteady breath. He stands in total silence, letting it sink in that she’s really gone, that he pushed her away and she’s not coming back.

 

Will grips the back of the sofa with white-knuckled fingers. He digs in until it hurts, holding on until his legs finally give out. He falls to the floor, sobs finally breaking free. He’s alone. Just like he should be. He did this. It was entirely him. He had to do it, but it hurts so badly that it feels like he won’t survive. 

 

His scar aches. Wrapping his arms around his midsection, he presses his palm flat against it. It’s a phantom pain, but it throbs right now, a hollow gnawing feeling that seems to eat away at his insides.

 

She’s everything he ever wanted… and everything he never deserved.

 

 _God_ , he wants a drink. He wants a whole damn bottle. But he doesn’t have anything and he’s too much of a mess to go to the store. He doesn’t want to face anyone, not even a liquor store cashier.

 

His phone buzzes.

 

Despite himself, his heart leaps and he tugs the phone out of his pocket onto the floor next to him.

 

_JQ: You gonna pick up your little sister or what?_

 

He reads Jules’ text, but all his mind registers is Amelia’s blinding smile staring back at him from his lockscreen. It brings on a fresh fit of sobs and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look at it, can’t reply to Jules, can’t think about any of this right now.

 

Will grabs his phone and hurls it across the room. It hits the wall with a violent thud.

 

He knows immediately he’s cracked the screen and regret shoves him into action. He scrambles across the floor to pick it up and, sure enough, Amelia’s smile has a spiderweb crack marring it. 

 

The sight only makes him cry harder.

 

Will runs his fingers over her face. The jagged edges of the cracked glass catches on his callused skin.

 

There’s nothing he can do right. Nothing at all. Everything he does hurts her. He just wants to stop hurting people. He wants to stop hurting himself. But as he curls into a ball in the corner of his living room, cradling the broken phone in his hands, he has no idea how to do that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm gonna fix it


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture It - my first original story - is totally drafted! *celebratory noise makers go here* I'm still mapping my next steps, but as my betas give it an initial look over, I'm working on FiCoN oneshots this month so we an cover more ground and so I have more in the bag and you guys have shorter gaps between posting (there will almost certainly be a break after Providence and another after oneshots before we start Schism. I don't yet know how long they'll be). 
> 
> But back to Providence... I left you all in a rough place last week. So... this is where we left off.

The only way Amelia holds herself together in the first few hours after she leaves Will’s condo is by telling herself this won’t last long. She stares at her phone, willing it to ring, and every time she hears one of her neighbors shuffling down the hall, her heart races in expectation of a knock.

 

But her phone remains lifeless and dark, and every quiet footfall continues past her apartment, fading away along with her last vestiges of hope. 

 

Time ticks by, and with it comes the sinking realization that he’s not coming. Agonizing pain fills the empty spaces in her heart as Amelia breaks down with uncontrollable sobs. He can’t leave it like this. He just _can’t._ But, as the time goes on, minutes turning to hours, her self-assurances ring more and more hollow. Everything _hurts_. Her soul feels like it’s split down the middle, all jagged, raw edges. She just wants to go back to before. She just needs him to reach out. Anything.

 

But nothing happens. 

 

When the sun fades from the horizon, Amelia pulls the coat she stole from him over her like a blanket and texts Jules.

 

_AP: Please take care of him. He needs you. Don’t let him be alone._

 

Her fingers shake so badly, it takes several tries and a heavy reliance on autocorrect to get the words tapped out.

 

It’s fifteen minutes of sinking into the black hole of wondering if she’s lost more than Will before a reply finally comes through.

 

_JQ: Already there. Thank you._

 

Amelia chokes out a sob, but she nods at the screen. Good. That’s good.

 

_JQ: I’m sorry, Amelia._

 

That’s when she truly breaks down. Those words make it real. He really broke up with her. He _really_ ended things. There’s no part of her that’s willing to give up on Will, but she also knows better than to push, especially right now. And nothing she feels - nothing she can do - changes what he’s done. It doesn’t take away the words he threw at her, or the fact that he’s gone. 

 

She doesn’t have it in her to reply to Jules at the moment, but she does call Maggie. She’s a mess of tearful words that she won’t remember later, but it doesn’t matter. Maggie’s at her door in record time and all Amelia can manage to do is cling to her friend as she cries.

 

Nothing’s better the next day. Or the day after that.

 

It won’t be long before they see each other again, not with her in the lair each night. That’s something that won’t change. Really, it’s something she won’t _let_ change. Being part of the team, training to be Providence, going out to protect the city with the others, it’s become a part of her. The prospect of running into Will doesn’t sway her from that, even if it makes her insides twist until she can’t breathe. 

 

But one thing she’s learned from his father is that battles are won or lost with preparation. 

 

So, she pulls herself together as best she can. She focuses on work, on training, and on learning everything she can about PTSD and alcoholism.

 

It’s jarring, though, being without him. She feels like she’s lost a limb and the phantom pain of it sears her every waking moment. For ten months, she’s seen him almost every day. For the last four months, she’s woken up next to him more nights than not. Her bed is cold and lonely without him. Most nights, she winds up sleeping on the sofa with his coat draped over her. It’s too firm to be comfortable, but at least it doesn’t leave her reaching out for him in her sleep.

 

She looks like hell, and she knows it. Exhaustion pulls at every inch of her. She covers the evidence as best she can, avoiding makeup that isn’t waterproof, but it only goes so far. Nothing lets her avoid the pity on his family’s faces when she’s at the lair.

 

It still doesn’t keep her from asking after him.

 

“He’s… I don’t know.” Jules says nearly a week later, after Amelia grabs her sleeve and all but begs for information for what feels like the dozenth time. At least it’s an honest answer, but it offers no comfort. “He doesn’t want anyone there. Not me. Not Dad. Not even Beth.”

 

“ _What_?” Amelia asks in a strained voice. It’s so soft that she’s amazed Jules even hears her.

 

The younger woman nods before wringing her hands. The very sight of _Jules_ fidgeting sends Amelia’s stomach plummeting as she watches her war with what to say. “She showed up super pissed off on Tuesday. I guess he texted her saying she should stop talking to you. She’s eleven, I don’t know what the hell he was expecting her to do with that, but it wasn’t what he wanted. She was hurt and broken-hearted and really, _really_ mad. She yelled a lot of harsh things at Will and he snapped at her to leave.”

 

“Oh... She came over right after that,” Amelia breathes, slipping her eyes shut. She swallows around the lump in her throat. “She didn’t tell me that she’d gone to see Will, but she showed up at my place and just hugged me and cried and told me I couldn’t leave her.”

 

“She cried?” Jules asks quietly, staring at Amelia with an unreadable look. “Not out of anger?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia confirms. “She was scared. It absolutely broke my heart. Again.”

 

“What did you tell her?”

 

“That Will might have cut me out of his life, but I’m not cutting her out of mine,” she replies. Amelia squares her shoulders against Jules’ response, but it’s not the judgment she expects.

 

“Good,” Jules says. “She needs more stability and that’s definitely not something Will can give her right now.”

 

“Was he…” Amelia pauses and rubs the back of her neck. “Was he drinking? Sometimes he gets… Sometimes he does that when he doesn’t want to think. Sometimes he just…”

 

Jules bites her lips together. “He was sober that time.”

 

“ _That_ time?” Amelia doesn’t even bother trying not to cry. “Jules…”

 

“I know,” she replies, gripping Amelia’s shoulder. “Look, I _know_. We all know. Mom and Dad are trying to work out what to do. I think Mom hopes it’s just the breakup and that he’ll snap out of it-”

 

“He won’t,” Amelia says in a whisper. “It’s not just the breakup. This isn’t _new._ He needs help, Jules. He’s the best man in the world and he’s suffering so much and he needs help.”

 

“I know he does,” Jules agrees. “So does Dad. So does Alex. He had him put on medical leave for a few weeks. Will’s pissed about it, but until he gets his head on straight, he’s too much of a danger to the guys on the truck.”

 

“So he’s just sitting at home, alone with his whisky, then?” Amelia asks. The mental image makes it feel like the shards of her broken heart are being ground beneath someone’s heel. “He needs to feel useful. He needs to be part of the world.”

 

“I know,” Jules says again on a harsh sigh as she squeezes Amelia’s shoulder harder. “That’s why we dragged him to family dinner. It’s why we keep stopping by, even though he’s a surly asshole no one really wants to be around right now. It’s why I yelled at him to do his fucking laundry and take a shower.” She pauses, letting Amelia see for the first time how defeated she feels. “I didn’t want to see that this was happening. Maybe if I had been paying more attention to what he was going through instead of assuming he was fine and focusing on my own life, it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.”

 

“None of this is your fault,” Amelia tells her.

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have done something to keep it from happening,” Jules replies, an uncharacteristic vulnerability shimmering in her eyes. She blinks it away as quickly as she can, but Amelia catches it anyhow. It’s a feeling she’s intimately familiar with.

 

“Should I go over there?” she asks. “I want to be there. I want to help him. But I don’t know…”

 

“Not now,” Jules says. “Give us time. Give _him_ time. I’ll tell him that I talked to you and that you’re worried about him and want to see him. But he’s so defensive, and his condo is his space. He’s already got the rest of us invading it daily and we’re family. I’m not sure it’s the best idea to add to that right now.”

 

 _He’s my family, too. He’s the part of me that I’m missing_.

 

The words linger on her tongue, but it feels like too much to say, especially to Jules. And if she thinks it might be a setback for Will if she showed up, then she won’t go. No matter how much she wants to. 

 

Amelia gives a short, hard nod as she tries to keep herself from crumbling.

 

“I’m sorry for doubting your feelings for him,” Jules says. “I can see how much you love him. We all can. Including him.”

 

Amelia can’t quite hold in a sob. “I wish that were true.”

 

“It is,” Jules replies with a confidence that almost makes Amelia believe her. “Somewhere inside him, he knows. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be pushing you away. He knows you love him. He just doesn’t understand it. And he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

 

The truth of that slices right through her, but at the same time, it helps. It makes sense, at least, in a twisted way. And even with everything he said to her when he broke things off, he never once tried to tell her he didn’t love her. Will’s not a liar. Not to anyone but himself, anyhow.

 

“You know,” Ellie says behind them. “I’m not really sure he’d love the idea of you chatting like this with his ex.”

 

Amelia cringes, both at the words and the tone behind them. She has no idea what she did to make Ellie dislike her, but her attitude has developed a razor-sharp edge over the last few months. While she doesn’t think Ellie means to be cruel, the words still sting.

 

“We’re both worried about him,” Jules snaps, glaring at her sister.

 

“They broke up,” Ellie points out, looking between them as if what she’s saying is the most obvious thing in the world. But it’s not. She’s completely missing the point. Ellie doesn’t seem to agree, zeroing in on Amelia with a dismissive shrug. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

 

“He dumped her,” Jules corrects. “You really think that means she shouldn’t care about him anymore? Honestly, what planet are you even _on_ right now?”

 

Ellie lets out a humorless laugh. “Caring is great. No problems there. I get that it wasn’t mutual and feelings linger. But I didn’t chat with your exes about how you coped after a breakup. And I’m _really_ hoping you never had a sit down with any of mine.”

 

Jules’ eyes narrow and she crosses her arms. “That depends,” she says. “Does Sara count?”

 

Ellie stiffens and the air between the siblings charges with an uneasy tension.

 

“ _Okay_ ,” Amelia says, stepping between them. It’s foolhardy to put herself in the middle of the Queen girls when they’re pissed off, but now isn’t the time for a sisterly brawl. “Jules, thank you for the defense, but I can handle myself. And Ellie, we aren’t gossiping and this isn’t a conversation that started after he… after he broke up with me. We’ve both been concerned for a while.”

 

Ellie turns wary. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Jules’ nostrils flare, her eyes flashing, but she bites her tongue to keep still. Her gaze flickers to Amelia before finding Ellie again. “He’s been hiding a lot,” Jules tells her sister. “Obviously really well. It started after he got shot. I noticed little things last year after he got out of the hospital. No red flags, though, so I let it slide and figured I was overreacting. I wasn’t. He’s having nightmares, flashbacks… He’s drinking to try and avoid them. I _know_ you’ve noticed the drinking. It’s affecting his behavior, his job… his relationships. Will has PTSD. He’s been hiding it from everyone.”

 

Surprise colors Ellie’s face but it quickly gets lost behind a mask of hurt and anger. “Well, that’s quite the family trait, isn’t it? Hiding things. How long have you two been talking about this? Does Dad know? Does Mom?”

 

“Ellie,” Jules breathes out, rolling her eyes.

 

“Does the whole team know except for me, because that would _totally_ fit, wouldn’t it?” Ellie snaps. “Amelia gets to slide right in and spend a few months learning to dodge a hit before she’s on the streets with a mask and a name? She has a spot at the family dinner table and the team planning table and everyone listens to _her_.”

 

“Oh my _God_.” Jules blinks at her. “Are you jealous?”

 

“No,” Ellie spits out. All Amelia can do is stare at her, wondering if she’s hearing things correctly. “I’m not,” Ellie insists. “I just don’t think she earned it and it’s not fair. We’ve been here for _years_. Eric’s been here. Sara’s been here. Even Alex has been here longer than her, but she’s sitting down at planning meetings and everyone listens to her like she knows what the hell she’s talking about while I might as well have been kicked to the kiddie table.”

 

“How is that not jealousy?” Jules asks slowly.

 

“I’m not trying to take your place,” Amelia interjects before Ellie can respond. “Not on the team and not in your family. I couldn’t if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. You’re one of the ones who helped _train_ me, Ellie. I respect your abilities, your drive, and all the time you’ve put into this.”

 

“Yeah?” Ellie asks, her voice wavering. She shakes her head as her eyes flit back to Jules. “That makes one of you, at least.”

 

Jules shakes her head. “ _Wow_.”

 

“Whatever,” Ellie says, dismissing her sister and looking at Amelia. “Where is everyone?”

 

Amelia frowns. “Why would I…?”

 

“Dad sent a group text,” Ellie replies as if it’s obvious. “Said to meet here.”

 

Amelia glances at her bag where she’d tossed it next to Jules’ purse. They’d had plans to meet up and spar for a bit, get some training in before whatever the night brings. Neither one of them has checked their phones in a while.

 

She opens her mouth to tell Ellie that, but the door slides open and the Diggles join them. Even Amelia can feel the way Ellie tenses when Sara enters the room. It was Ellie’s choice to not be with the other woman, but she doesn’t seem to have accepted Sara moving on, either. Amelia watches Ellie’s jaw clench as she glances away to avoid Sara’s gaze.

 

It figures. These Queens and their I-love-you-but-I-can’t-be-with-you complexes. She and Sara should start a damned club.

 

“Any idea what’s going on?” Digg asks, looking around as if he’s searching for Oliver and Felicity. “It sounded important.”

 

“It was a one-line text,” Ellie replies with vague amusement.

 

“I’ve known the man for twenty-nine years,” Digg replies, his lips curving into a thin smile. “Somewhere along the way, I learned to read between the lines.”

 

“...But there’s no ‘between’ when there’s only one line,” Ellie says.

 

“Mom’s been digging into phone, computer, and banking records whenever she’s had the time this week,” Jules tells them, pulling the conversation back into focus. “I’d guess she found something.”

 

“Whose records?” Lyla asks. “John and I have been following up on leads through old contacts from my ARGUS days, but so far we’ve found nothing. Which is suspicious in and of itself.”

 

“She’s been looking into Senator Thad DeWolfe the Third,” Jules replies. Amelia holds her breath and gives Jules a sideways glance, prompting the other woman to shrug. “Domino got ahold of him somehow. They offered him _something_. If there’s a trail, Mom will find it.”

 

“Good,” Amelia says. It’s hard to reconcile what she’s learned about Thad in recent years with the man she used to think she knew. There had been a time she’d respected his professionalism, but he’d _known_ that. He’d used it, even. She wonders how many other unsavory deals he’s made along the way, but decides she’d probably rather not know. “If we can find out how they got to him, maybe we can find an avenue to follow.”

 

Nate enters the lair as she finishes her sentence. When he spots her, he offers a sad smile in greeting. She hasn’t seen him in the last week. He doesn’t spend time at Arrow Headquarters if he can avoid it. 

 

So, it surprises her when he walks over and gives her a hug.

 

“Oh,” Amelia says with a silent _‘oof’_ as he envelopes her. He’s so reedy and tall, but there’s a surprising strength in his grip that comforts her.

 

“I’m glad to see you,” he says before pulling back to search her eyes with concern. “You okay? I thought about calling you, but I figured you were busy and you have your friends. You didn’t really need to hear from Will’s little brother.”

 

“You can always call me, Nate,” she replies with a smile. It’s touching how much he cares. She leaves out the part that there were plenty of times in the last week when she would’ve let her phone ring no matter who was calling. Except for Will. She’d have picked up for him in a heartbeat at any time. “I really do appreciate it.”

 

Nate nods before looking her over. “And you’re okay? Do you need anything?”

 

_Will. I need Will._

 

“I’m…” Amelia swallows hard and her next smile is a bit shaky. “I’m getting by.”

 

“My brother’s a fool,” Nate tells her.

 

The intensity in his eyes is surprising and it leaves her a little stunned. He’s so young, and sometimes it shines through so clearly. Everything seems black and white to him, still. It’s so much simpler at his age, she remembers, when it seems like one person must be right and the other must be wrong, like everything will just work out if both people go into a relationship with an open heart and good intentions.

 

Reality is a whole lot messier than that, though.

 

“Love makes fools of us all sometimes,” Amelia says. “That’s just the way it goes.”

 

He blinks, his jaw tightening. She raises her eyebrows, but before she can say anything he looks to the floor. She can’t imagine what upset him, but something clearly did based on the muscle ticking in his cheek.

 

The doors to the lair open again, pulling everyone’s attention to the new arrivals. Oliver and Felicity stride in together…

 

And then Will.

 

The instant she sees him, she swears all the air gets sucked out of the room.

 

Ellie had said they sent a group text. Amelia just hadn’t considered that would include Will.

 

When he spots her, his eyes instantly finding her as if she’s the only one in the room, he stops.

 

She can’t breathe. Can’t _think_. She reaches out blindly for something to hold onto - needing to know this is real, that she isn’t dreaming, needing an anchor, _anything_ \- and finds Nate. She grabs his sleeve as hard as she can and covers her mouth with her other hand.

 

A week ago she believed that Will couldn’t really look bad if he tried, but a lot’s changed over the last few days and her heart hurts at how broken he appears. 

 

He hasn’t shaved since the last time she saw him and he doesn’t look like he’s slept, either. His eyes - those bright, beautiful eyes that looked at her with so much love - are bruised with exhaustion. The spark of humor and joy and affection she cherishes so much is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s the smallest flicker of life as he watches her. But it’s gone almost as fast as it appears.

 

Nate steps closer to her, his hand sliding around to her back, and she’s so grateful for the warm, secure pressure of his palm that she almost gives into the tears burning her throat.

 

“You’re okay,” Nate murmurs.

 

She’s not, she wants to tell him. She explained that just a minute ago. She’s getting by, but that’s not the same thing. 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Will asks, his voice hoarse with disuse.

 

Amelia flinches and Nate rubs a slow circle against her back. More tears blur her vision, but for once it’s not Will causing them. It’s the safety and security this family offers, their unfailing support, even for her, to whom they owe nothing. And it’s the fact that Will won’t let them be there for him.

 

She takes a steadying breath before asking, “Where else would I be?”

 

“Home,” he answers sharply. “Away. Gone from this godforsaken city. I told you to leave.”

 

Amelia frowns. “I left your house because you told me to,” she replies, her voice hardening. “I left your life because you made me, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. But you don’t get to tell me to uproot my entire life and run away. If _that’s_ why you broke up with me, that was a severe miscalculation on your part, and a hell of a lot of gall.”

 

“You’re being foolish,” he mutters, shaking his head. “They’re going to _kill_ you, Amelia. Do you not get that?”

 

“Then let them try,” Amelia snaps. “They already did once and they failed. I’m not going to let them - or you - chase me away from this. I’m not running.”

 

“You need to get the hell out of here and go _home_ ,” Will bites out.

 

Someone tries to say something, to break the tension and put the team on course, but neither of them hear it. She doesn’t care that his entire family surrounds them, that they hear every word. She’s not going to let anyone push her around. Not anymore.

 

“Oh yeah?” Amelia asks, irritation coiling quick and tight in her gut. “ _You_ were my home, Will, but you pushed me out. So where the hell am I supposed to go now? You robbed both of us of that. And I know why you did it. I get that you’re scared on about a dozen different levels, and so am I! I’m _terrified_. And I know in some twisted way you think you’re keeping both of us safe, but you’re _not_. Do you hear me? You’re not. All you’re doing is ensuring that we’re both alone with our fears. So you don’t get to tell me to go home, Will. I don’t have one anymore.”

 

Something in his face cracks. He doesn’t say anything, but a desperately pained look twists his features. It’s a plea without words, one laced with fear and shame. It breaks her heart even as it gives her hope. At least he’s hearing her this time. She knows he wants her safe, just as much as she knows that he honestly believes this is the only way forward. But it’s not. She’ll never feel safe until Domino’s brought down. And, regardless of what Will’s fighting, she’ll never be truly happy again until they’re back together.

 

She’s spent far too much of her life settling for just being okay and calling it happy. She won’t do that again. Not when she knows what it feels like to have what she really wants.

 

“Can we take a seat?” Oliver asks when the silence stretches on too long. It’s spoken so quietly that Amelia barely hears him over the gentle whirs from Felicity’s servers. “We did actually call everyone here for a reason.”

 

The big conference table seats everyone easily, but Will still stands off to the side, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Nate pulls out a chair for Amelia, giving her a small smile before shooting a glare at Will.

 

For his part, Will just stares at his little brother.

 

“No Alex?” Felicity asks, looking at Jules.

 

“He has a meeting,” she replies, her gaze shifting to Will for a second. He shuffles uneasily, stretching his neck and setting his jaw as his eyes shift to stare into nothingness. “How about Roy and Eric?”

 

“They’re in Central City following up on a completely different lead with The Flash and his team,” Oliver replies, glancing at his wife. “I’ll fill them in later, but for now we should get started.”

 

“Okay,” Felicity says, pulling out a tablet and hooking it into the conference table. A projection materializes, hovering over the table so everyone can see what she’s doing. “We started _here_.”

 

A database entry for Thad appears, complete with a picture. Amelia schools her features so she doesn’t wince, but she can’t help feeling the eyes of more than one person settling on her.

 

Including Will.

 

She looks at Felicity instead.

 

“We know for a fact that he’s been contacted by Domino,” Felicity continues. “And that he’s cooperating with him, though we don’t know if it’s under duress or not.”

 

“Unless he _is_ Domino,” Will mutters darkly. 

 

It snags the attention of the entire room, but he remains expressionless as he stares at the hologram of Thad’s face.

 

“Why would you think that?” Oliver asks.

 

“He’s manipulative, amoral, and power-hungry,” Will replies. He locks eyes with his father, but his look is as bitter as his tone. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and no trace of lightness in his face, Amelia wonders where the hell Will went, because this is not the man she knows.

 

“No one’s going to contest that,” Jules says. “But the odds of him being Domino himself seem really low.”

 

“Yeah?” Will challenges, his lips twitching in what might be irritation. “Why’s that?”

 

Silence descends on the room in a suffocating blanket as everyone looks at Amelia again. They’re all thinking the same thing, but none of them are going to say it.

 

“Because when Domino rose to power, Thad was living in Central City with me,” she reminds him. Will looks at her, his eyes sparking as his gaze burns into her. The air is suddenly so thick it’s hard to breathe. Amelia swallows hard. “I would’ve known.”

 

“Right,” Will replies, his eyes dulling. “Because you’re so terribly observant of the men in your life.”

 

Amelia nearly bites through her tongue in frustration. God, she wants to scream at him and shake him until her Will is back. She glares at him. “I see _you_.”

 

Will doesn’t look away from her, and she refuses to be the first to break their stalemate. The air is rife with tension, but the longer the staredown continues, the more connected Amelia feels. The connective thread between them grows tighter and tighter with each passing second, but it’s too strong to snap. Everything else fades into nothingness. All of it. The lair slips away, and the people in it. She doesn’t see past Will, can’t think beyond her focus on him. 

 

It’s only when Felicity clears her throat that the spell breaks.

 

Will looks to his stepmother and Amelia finally feels like she can take a breath.

 

“There’d be a whole lot more to go on electronically if he were Domino,” Felicity says. “He’s not in Starling a lot. Half of the year he’s back in D.C. Unless he had trusted lieutenants to fill in for him… And even then, Domino’s not the sort to be so hands-off. He’s not Thad. But he is _using_ Thad and I think we can use that to trace back to him.”

 

“You think so?” Sara asks, her keen eyes honed in on Felicity.

 

“Everyone slips up somewhere,” Felicity tells the younger woman with a smile. Sara purses her lips thoughtfully in response. “You just have to find it,” Felicity assures her. “I started with avenues of communication.” Felicity scrolls through records and everyone follows via the hologram. Phone calls and web addresses, emails and texts. Some of the contacts Amelia recognizes, some of them she doesn’t. But nothing stands out until Felicity highlights a series of seemingly unrelated phone numbers. “These are burner phones.”

 

Ellie sighs. “Well, that gets us nowhere.”

 

“That’s not true,” Amelia says, earning a raised eyebrow from the other girl. “He wouldn’t answer his phone unless he recognized the number or was expecting a call. He knew they were going to contact him. He must have.”

 

Felicity gives her an approving smile. “I figured the same thing. I’m still trying to find the source of their first contact, but based on the dates of the calls, I don’t think he had any involvement with Domino until after the attack on City Hall.”

 

“Because of me,” Amelia realizes. Her hand drifts to the phantom imprints of fingers against her throat. “Because they thought he might be useful against me.”

 

“Or useful _with_ you,” Will adds. Amelia frowns as she looks at him. He’s staring at his feet. “He had a lot of influence over you once. Who’s to say you won’t fall in line with what he says again?”

 

“Are you gonna hold that over me forever?” she asks. He keeps his head tilted down, but looks up at her from under his brow. “This is why I tried to talk to you about everything _months_ ago. It’s why I tried to apologize and have an actual conversation before anything happened with us. You were the one who wanted to ignore it all.”

 

His eyes drop back to the floor. God, everything about him just looks _tired_. Amelia’s fingers itch to reach out to him, to pull him close and soothe all of it away, to wrap him up in the protective cocoon of her embrace so he can rest. 

 

But he won’t let her.

 

“Stop making me the person I used to be, Will,” Amelia tells him. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. Let me be who I am now.” All Will does is let out a dry, rueful laugh. His face contorting in pain as he stares at the ground. “What?” Amelia asks. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Stop making _you_ the person you used to be…” he echoes, shaking his head. “Okay, Amelia. Maybe try taking your own advice sometime.”

 

Amelia frowns. “I…” she starts, but she breaks off with a sharp puff of air.

 

He doesn’t get it. She wonders if he ever did in the first place. Before, she’d loved the possibility of him, the idea of them together. But none of it holds a candle to knowing what really being with him is like. Every day she’s fallen a little bit more in love with this soft, sweet, self-deprecating, loving man who possesses so much hidden strength he doesn’t even realize he has. He’s fought so hard for so long entirely on his own, pretending he’s okay for the sake of everyone he loves. He might not see that as strength, but it is. And it would wear anyone down in time. She hates what it’s done to him, the way he suffers because of it, but she loves how hard he’s fought without even having the right weapons. It speaks volumes about the kind of man he is, how much he loves his friends and family, even when he can’t seem to love himself.

 

But she doesn’t know how to tell him any of that, not in a way he would actually _hear_.

 

Amelia rubs her forehead and shuts her eyes on a sigh as she turns away from him. Beside her, Nate rubs her shoulder in a silent show of support.

 

“Everyone changes and grows,” Oliver says. Amelia opens her eyes to find him staring at his son. “You have to allow them to do that.”

 

“And really,” Felicity adds, her voice a ray of sunshine slicing through the dour mood in the room, “who among us hasn’t unknowingly been involved with a supervillain? ...Or two, in your father’s case.”

 

“Oh… God.” Jules winces as Ellie raises her hand. “Me. I haven’t.”

 

“You’re still young,” her mother assures her.

 

“Seriously?” Jules retorts as Nate says, “Can we not talk about your old love lives, please?”

 

“Oh, Nate, don’t worry, there’s still plenty of time for you, too,” Felicity tells him with a teasing wink. Nate’s face turns a scandalized red as Amelia pats his arm in sympathy.

 

“Not to derail anything, but if we don’t have a contact point to trace back to yet, what _do_ we have?” Lyla asks.

 

“Right,” Felicity says, pointing at Lyla, her eyes lighting up. “So, limited info from phone and computer records, _but_ … then I followed the money.”

 

Amelia sits up a little straighter, giving Felicity all her attention.

 

“Specifically campaign funds,” Felicity elaborates, pulling up finance records. “This is so clever. I’m actually impressed with these people. Domino’s got to know a thing or two about campaign finance laws because wow, this took some footwork to come in under the radar.”

 

“Honey…” Oliver prompts.

 

“Right,” she says, refocusing. “So, we don’t have a huge influx of cash. That’d be a massive red flag and possibly get the feds involved, which is the last thing Domino would want. However, Thad’s campaign coiffers grew steadily after the burner calls started. On its face, it looks fine. But when you start digging deeper, it’s a mess of financial genius. Start skimming through these names that supposedly donated a hundred bucks a pop every month. See anything that stands out to you?”

 

Amelia gets halfway down the list before one name makes her jaw drop. “Ketherington? As in Blaine Ketherington? The guy who tried to strangle me?”

 

Felicity nods. “The donor name is Brian Ketherington, his father. Who died in 2024.”

 

“We’re sure it’s not a different one?” Jules asks.

 

“There are a grand total of 142 combined birth, death, and marriage records with the last name Ketherington in the entire country _ever_ ,” Felicity tells her. “There are no other options.”

 

“So how’s a dead man making campaign contributions?” Ellie asks.

 

“He’s not,” Felicity replies. “His trust is. The funny thing, though, is that the trust was _mysteriously_ absent from records until two years ago when some previously unknown offshore funds were found in his name. And he’s not the only one. There are a hundred and fourteen dead men and women with mysterious trusts donating monthly in small amounts to Thad DeWolfe’s campaign. And, wouldn’t you know it, every last one of them is run by the same trustees. Imagine that.”

 

“That’s how they launder money,” Amelia says. “By funneling it through fake estates.”

 

“Yep,” Felicity declares. “And Thad’s not the only one on their payroll. I traced other donations from the same accounts and found more than a dozen politicians getting similar payouts. Including the interim mayor, two members of the city counsel, and the deputy chief of police.”

 

“Tip Malone off about that last one,” Oliver says heavily, his voice thick with distaste. “I refuse to let him work side-by-side with a man who helped orchestrate his wife’s murder. He deserves more than that.”

 

“Already did,” Felicity assures him with a grim nod. “I sent an anonymous tip with a solid trail to follow. He’ll be taken care of in short order. Then we just have… dozens more to worry about.”   

 

“What about Senator Powers?” Amelia asks. 

 

“No,” Felicity replies. “I don’t have anything on him and even though Ellie got a bug in his phone, it’s given us squat. But I do have three account managers at the same financial firm who run those trusts. I can’t say for sure that any of them know what’s going on, but someone at that firm set up one hell of a deal and those so-called offshore funds are coming from somewhere. It’s tricky, tracing everything back once we’re bouncing between different banking systems around the world, but I’m working on it. If we can find where the money started, I’m convinced we’ll find Domino.”

 

“Who else has access to the trusts? Other than politicians, who’s getting paid?” Will asks. 

 

He almost sounds interested, and Amelia can’t help but glance at him with a tiny relieved sigh.

 

“Quite a few people,” Felicity admits. “In each case there’s a relative who gets a much larger monthly payout.”

 

“His henchmen,” Amelia realizes, staring off into space before looking at Felicity. “That’s how he pays them. You have a list of Domino’s boys.”

 

Felicity’s eyebrows fly up as she smiles. “I think we might.”

 

“A hundred and fourteen of them?” Will asks. “You have them all on facial recognition?”

 

“I’m working on it,” Felicity assures him.

 

“You need to track them,” he insists. The sudden intensity in his voice makes Amelia’s breath catch. “You need to set up some kind of alert in case any of them try to get near Beth or… or Amelia. We need that _yesterday_.”

 

“Cool your jets, kiddo,” Felicity replies. “I understand what we need to do. I’m on board and you’re right. But I only _appear_ to have magical computer powers. These things take time.”

 

“How long?” he demands, shoving off the wall.

 

“For that many people? Covering the whole city? It’s a complicated program, Will. A couple days at least. Maybe a week.”

 

“A _week_?”

 

“Well, can _you_ do it faster?” Felicity asks, giving him a pointed look. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. I will work as fast as I can, but I’m only human. This takes time.”

 

Nothing about that makes him happy. He stretches his neck to the side again, working his jaw back and forth. “Fine,” he bites out. “David’s been talking about taking Beth hiking and she’s got next week off of school. Think Roy would mind if they used his cabin for a week or so?”

 

“It’s a good idea,” Oliver chimes in. “Just to be on the safe side. Set it up. I’ll talk to Roy.”

 

Will nods, the plan seeming to settle him a bit. But then he looks at Amelia again and strain tightens his face once more.

 

“You should go spend some time with your mom,” he tells her.

 

“I’m not running,” Amelia replies.

 

“For a week, Amelia,” he insists. “It’s just a week. It’s not running. It’s being smart about this. Work remotely for a bit. Just get out of Starling until we have something that can give you a little bit of protection.”

 

“I’m my own protection,” she tells him. “In case you’ve forgotten.”

 

“Amelia, I swear to God-”

 

“No, Will,” Amelia interrupts, standing up with so much force she almost knocks her chair over. “There are things I need to do here. My life is _here_. We have leads to follow. I have meetings for work. The trial’s _next month_. I’m not running.”

 

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he snaps.

 

“Maybe,” she shouts and he jerks, his eyes widening in alarm. “Maybe they’ll plant a bomb on my car. Maybe they’ll barge into my office guns blazing. Or maybe I’ll catch the flu and die next week or get hit by a bus while crossing the street. I’m not living my life based on maybes. Whatever happens, happens, but it’s _my_ choice to be there when it does. And I’m choosing to fight for what I want. Your choice gets to be whether you’re gonna do that alongside me or not. And if you’re not, then get the hell out of my way, because I’m not backing down.”

 

Will slams his hand against the wall with a loud slap that echoes around the room. Before anyone can react, he’s stalking toward Amelia and grabbing her by the wrist. He doesn’t break his stride as he tugs her along with him toward the locker rooms.

 

“Hey!” Amelia protests, even as she lets him lead the way. “What the hell are you-”

 

The second they’re in the locker room, Will turns and presses her back against the door. It slams shut with the force of her body under his as he seals his lips over hers. 

 

For a second, she can’t quite keep up with what’s happening, but the scratch of his beard scraping against her skin brings all her senses to life.

 

Amelia grips his shirt in a white-knuckled clench of her fists. The fear that he’ll change his mind and disappear runs deep and she clings to him, the need to hold on as primal as anything she’s ever felt. But he doesn’t go anywhere. His hands cup her face as he nips at her lips, seeking entrance. She gasps under the assault and his tongue instantly plunders her mouth.

 

Desperation rakes through her, matching the hunger and punishing force of his lips. He pins her to the door, kissing her with a fierceness that has her heart pounding and her head spinning. They’ve made love a hundred times, a dozen different ways. This isn’t that. It’s frustration and panic and need. But it’s still somehow enough to bring all her feelings to the surface. It’s been a week since she’s felt him pressed up against her, since she’s tasted his kisses, since she’s had his hands on her, and she needs this just as badly as he does. In this instant, there’s nothing more important than making him understand that. He might not believe her words, but she refuses to let him doubt her actions.

 

With a muffled moan, Amelia kisses him back, matching every bit of his fire.

 

He growls against her lips, angling his head to go deeper.

 

She hitches one of her legs up over his hip, using her heel to urge him closer. Adrenaline and desire fuel her as she pushes her shoulder blades back against the door to angle her hips toward his. The growing bulge in his pants presses against her and she pulls her leg up higher, needing to feel him as much as possible.

 

When their hips line up, when his erection pushes up against the warmth between her thighs, he gasps and pulls back.

 

His wide blue eyes blink like he’s not sure where he is or what he’s doing. Her fingers clench at his shirt as understanding dawns on him, and then something shifts just under the surface. He hasn’t moved at all, but she can feel him retreating all the same.

 

“Please?” Amelia whispers, swallowing and letting go of his shirt to touch his neck. She strokes at his skin with her thumbs before settling her hands on his shoulders. “Will…”

 

“You need to…” He pauses to clear his throat and blinks like he’s trying to clear his vision. His hands slip away from her face, but it’s so slow and tortuous, like he has to force himself to stop touching her.

 

“No,” she protests, reaching up one hand to touch the rough stubble of his beard.

 

“I need you to _leave_ ,” he rasps, shaking his head and stepping back, forcing her to let go of him. “You damn stubborn, beautiful woman, I need you to _leave_.”

 

The noise that falls out of her is somewhere between a sob and a sigh. Gritting her teeth, she thuds her head back against the door. “What about what I need? Do we get to talk about that?” she asks. He flinches, but he doesn’t answer. “You can’t protect me from everything, Will.”

 

“I can’t protect you from anything,” he corrects, giving her a desperately somber look that begs her to understand what he’s saying. “Not even from myself, apparently.”

 

“Then stop trying! There’s no part of me that wants to be apart from you. Not even a little.”

 

Will swallows hard and looks to the side, his brow knitting so tightly she wants to run her fingers over the deeply-etched lines to smooth them away. If she could just ease the burden he carries, take away some of the worry and confusion - if he’d just _let her_ \- she’d be so very grateful.

 

“Your sense of self-preservation is terrible,” he tells her without looking back. Amelia’s heart drops. “Mind stepping aside? I need to… I need to go.”

 

She doesn’t move, not until he glances at her again. It’s only then that she nods. There’s an apology written all over his face. She’s glad he has the sense to not say it out loud.

 

“Yeah, sure,” she says quietly, stepping aside and tugging the door open. “You’re the reason we’re in here in the first place, after all.”

 

His face tightens and he looks away again before stalking out of the locker room. There’s a hint of conversation going on at the conference table, but it stops the instant the door opens. Amelia thinks about not following for a quick second, but she’s not sure she can be alone without crying right now. So, instead she takes a shaky breath and forces herself to follow him. 

 

“I need some air,” Will tells the others, heading to the exit. 

 

Nobody says a word until he’s gone.

 

“Everything okay?” Oliver asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Amelia replies with a broken shrug, turning back to the table.

 

“What happened?” Nate asks. Amelia doesn’t miss Jules’ wince or the incredulous look she sends her little brother.

 

“Mixed messages,” Amelia replies, returning to her seat, slouching as she plants her elbows on the table and rests her head in her hands.

 

“I’d say,” Jules agrees. She points to her chin. “You have a, uh, red mark. Right there.”

 

Heat instantly takes over Amelia’s face, which ironically serves as excellent camouflage.

 

“Why would she-” Nate starts, and the very thought of what he’s going to ask only makes Amelia blush more. Ellie rolls her eyes with a frustrated noise before he can finish the question and tugs at her brother’s arm. She leans over enough to whisper something in his ear and his eyes go wide, the tips of his ears pinkening as he looks at Amelia. She gives him a tight smile. “Oh. Right. So… Are you guys back together, then?”

 

“Nate,” Ellie groans, hitting his arm.

 

“Ow! What?” he asks. “Why is that a bad question? What did I do?”

 

“Do we have a plan?” Amelia asks, ignoring Nate as she looks to Oliver, Felicity, and Digg. “With all of those leads, are we going after anyone?”

 

“We can’t go at this piece by piece,” Digg says, shaking his head. Oliver watches his friend as he nods in solemn agreement. “There’s too much risk that way. If we reel in six of them at once, the other hundred and eight might all come crashing down on us like an army.”

 

“And that’s assuming they’re the only assets Domino has,” Felicity points out. “We don’t have any reason to rule out the idea that he has more. I’m still untangling these finances. It’s possible we may find another avenue he’s paying people through.”

 

“Plus there’s the weapons,” Jules adds. “His supplies aren’t street legal. He’s getting them from somewhere. Guns and knives and brass knuckles are bad enough, but if he’s got something bigger…”

 

“I know,” Oliver agrees. “And I wouldn’t put it past him. No, we’re not going after his boys right now. We’re in wait-and-watch mode until we get more information, unless they make a move first. We need rest and research. When things do happen, it’s likely to be all at once. I want everyone in top form. But everybody sleeps with one eye open. Understood?”

 

“What a lovely way to be in top form,” Ellie notes. “Half-sleeping all the time.’

 

“I should get going,” Amelia says. “I should be gone before Will gets back.”

 

“Or you shouldn’t.” Jules shrugs. Amelia raises a wary eyebrow at her. “I might’ve been wrong earlier, when I said you should stay away. Yeah, he got angry with you here, but at least he was _feeling_ something. That seems like progress from where I’m sitting.”

 

Amelia gives her a weak smile as she stands. “Lack of feeling has never been his problem. Apathy is just a mask he’s wearing. Until he’s ready to take it off, I can’t make him do it. I’ll see you guys later.”

 

Felicity stands up as well, rounding the table to join her with a faint smile. “I’ll walk you out.”

 

Before Amelia can say anything, Felicity loops her arm through the younger woman’s, towing her toward the exit. When they reach the doorway, the Queen matriarch stops and presses her palm to Amelia’s cheek. It’s such a motherly gesture that Amelia freezes, her heart stuttering with emotion.

 

“Don’t give up on him,” Felicity says. “Not ever. Promise me that.”

 

Amelia nods, her eyes watering. “Giving up on him would be giving up on myself. I learned the hard way to not do that. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Good,” Felicity says with an approving nod. “Good. Thank you. He’s such a good boy. He always has been. And to see him like this…”

 

“It breaks your heart,” Amelia finishes for her with trembling lips. “I know. It breaks mine, too.”

 

“He’s dealt with so much,” Felicity says. “More than anyone should. And he’s had a kind heart and put everyone else first through all of it. I want more for him than that. I want to see him _happy_ , the way I’ve only ever seen him with you. I want to see him put himself first, for once in his life. He deserves that. He deserves someone who will stand beside him and love him with everything in them. I don’t know when I became convinced that you’re the right person for the job, but I know that I am.”

 

Amelia nods and wipes away a tear. “So am I.”

 

“Good,” Felicity replies. “I’ll save you a chair for family dinners, then. It might take a bit before you’re joining us again, but that seat is yours.”

 

“Thank you, Felicity,” Amelia says. Her heart swells with affection for this family that’s welcomed her so easily into the fold. It means more than she can possibly express to have Will’s mother’s support, even now. “Have a good night.”

 

“Try to do the same.”

 

Despite what happened, Amelia leaves the bunker with a lighter heart, secure in the knowledge that at least most of the Queens welcome her and wish her well. Ellie’s complicated, and then there’s Will… 

 

With a soul-weary sigh, she gets in her car and heads out.

 

It’s nice that they all like her, great that they welcome her, but in the end the only one that really matters is Will. And right now everything with him is so very up in the air. Setting the car to drive itself, Amelia settles back in her seat, touching her fingers to her lips. When the car starts on her usual route, she changes it to take a more circuitous path home. 

 

Maybe home’s the wrong word. Like she said earlier, that title belongs to Will. She’s just headed to her apartment, with all its haunting memories.

 

But he still kissed her like she means everything to him. She felt it, even if the emotion was desperate and unsettled. So is _he._ Maybe he always was and the façade that covered that up has just crumbled over time. Maybe they’ll end up better off in the long run after this gut-wrenching rough patch.

 

She hopes so. But the only thing she has is hope. Hope and stubbornness.

 

_… stubborn, beautiful woman…_

 

There’s no small amount of irony in him calling anyone else stubborn.

 

Her phone rings. Amelia practically dives for her purse to grab it, holding her breath, hoping it’s Will. It’s not, though. She knows the moment she sees the screen. But it’s the next best thing.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Amelia greets. “How was your day?”

 

“Super awesome!” Beth replies. Her voice is full of the kind of excitement that most kids lose when they’re just a little older than Bethany is right now. Amelia’s grateful to have caught it before she moves on to the next stage of her life. There are so many things she’s already missed out on. “Dad and I get to go on a trip! We’re going to this cabin, I guess. There’s a river and loads of trees and deer and hiking and wildflowers and Dad says we can even go _camping_ while we’re there.”

 

Amelia grins. “You know, when I was in college, my friends and I drove all the way across the country one summer. We camped most of the time.”

 

“Oh, _wow_ ,” Beth breathes with a giddiness that is contagious. “That’s so cool! Where’d you go? Do you think we could do that one day? Did you go rock climbing? I heard whitewater rafting is awesome. Were there any bears?”

 

Amelia cracks up laughing. The grin that spreads over her face feels so good and the gratitude she has for Beth’s lightness fills her chest with warmth. “No bears,” she replies. “But that trip is how I met Will.”

 

Silence is all she gets by way of response before Beth finally gives her a quiet, “Oh.”

 

“Still mad at him, huh?”

 

“He yelled at me,” Beth confides, her voice more than a little stubborn and hurt. “He told me to get out. He tried to take you away from me.”

 

Amelia bites her lip. Explaining anything that’s going on to Beth feels impossible, and it definitely doesn’t feel like her place. But she also can’t stand the idea of Will and Beth at odds. 

 

“He loves you, Bethany,” Amelia reminds her. “More than anyone else in the world, he loves you. The way he treated you wasn’t okay. The way he treated me wasn’t either. I’m glad you stood up for yourself. He needs to know that what he said hurt you. But everyone messes up sometimes and Will’s going through some hard things right now. Have you talked to your dad about this?”

 

“Not really,” Beth admits. “He tried. I sorta yelled at him that he wouldn’t understand and stomped off to my room.”

 

“Bethy, part of the reason Will’s having such a hard time right now is because he wouldn’t talk to anyone about things that were bothering him,” Amelia tells her. “I hope he learns from his mistake. But I also hope that all of us can learn from them, too.”

 

“You’re telling me to talk to my dad,” Beth says in a resigned voice.

 

“I’m saying it’s probably a smart idea,” Amelia replies as her car pulls into its parking spot. “You can always talk to me. I’ll be here for you no matter what. But your dad wants to be the person you turn to. And, for what it’s worth, I think you should let him. Especially about family stuff.”

 

“Maybe,” Beth hedges as Amelia gets out of her car and heads into her building. “It’s a long drive. I guess we’ll need something to talk about.”

 

“That’s a good plan,” Amelia tells her, fiddling with her keys. “Text me pictures from your trip?”

 

“Definitely,” Beth replies. “Hey, did you know there used to be places where cell phones didn’t even work? Isn’t that crazy?”

 

Amelia laughs. “Completely. It was the dark ages. Have fun on your trip, kiddo.”

 

“I will,” Bethany says. There’s a pause before she adds a rushed, “Love you.”

 

Amelia shuts her eyes and smiles as she leans against her apartment door. “I love you, too, Bethy.”

 

“Yeah,” Beth replies in a soft, delighted voice. “Okay. Good. Have a good night.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

The smile on her face feels like it stretches ear-to-ear. As the call disconnects, she lingers for a moment, treasuring the quiet affection that’s left behind. It doesn’t seem to matter that they haven’t known each other all that long or that there’s no kind of formal bond between them. She and Bethy _feel_ like family. They need each other, she thinks, in a way she can’t quite describe. It makes her wonder about Will’s mother, about what she’d think of all of this, whether they’d get along or if she’d approve of Amelia as much as the Queens seem to.

 

She hopes so.

 

Amelia unlocks her door and heads in. She hangs up her purse before falling back against the door until it latches shut. Thoughts of Will and the hungry press of his kiss fill her head. She touches her lips again before forcing herself to move. Pulling the elastic ponytail holder out of her hair, she runs her fingers through her dark locks, her mind shifting to lose herself in the memory of the day she met him at the campground…

 

But she still hears the soft shuffle of feet against her carpet. 

 

She still catches the shadows moving in her apartment out the corner of her eye. 

 

And she still spots the glint of a gun in the mirror in time to drop before it fires.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Replies to anything today are gonna be kinda slow (and possibly sorta high) because I have some dental surgery this morning (UGH). But I'll get to this sometime this week for sure. I'm currently working on completing the rest of the oneshots scheduled between Providence and Schism (there are either 16 or 17). There will be some kind of a break after Providence when it finishes on October 14th and whenever I start up the oneshots again, but I'm not certain how long yet (debating breaking until after the holidays). There will also be a break after the oneshots and before Schism, but that's the same story. Because of our schedules, Schism will probably be posted weekly as we write it (like FiCoN), rather than completed and polished ahead of time (like this and Tempest). 
> 
> Anyhow, that's probably more than you wanted to know this morning and now I'm rambling without any caffeine in my system. So... forget all that and let's find out what happened with Amelia, huh? Enjoy!

If Will had known Amelia would be there, he wouldn’t have gone to the lair in the first place. Not even with his father’s follow-up text to just him, emphasizing that he was expected.

 

He’s not strong enough to face her. Hell, he’s not strong enough for almost anything these days.

 

Walking around town doesn’t help a damn thing. More than once he stops outside the entrance of a bar, torn by the desire to go in and drown his thoughts in a bottle of whisky. But, even if he kind of hates himself for it, the need to hold on to the memory of how Amelia had moaned into his mouth as she’d clung to him overshadows the need to fall into oblivion.

 

So he keeps moving. At least for now.

 

He’d expected her to be angry whenever they saw each other again. He’d expected her to turn a cold shoulder and shut him out. It blows him away that she still hasn’t realized she deserves so much better than what he has to offer. She should be grateful that he broke things off. She should be taking the opportunity to bolt. Instead, she’s doing the opposite. What in the world she sees in him, he can’t imagine.

 

It might be smarter to banish thoughts of the way she’d returned his kiss with a desperation so fierce and heartfelt that it felt like his resolve might crack at any moment. He knows it is, really. But he’s weak and selfish and he _needs_ that memory. He won’t let himself keep her, but he can’t make himself push away the way she made him feel. Not when it’s the best part of his life. For a little while, he got to be happy on a whole new level. Even if it wasn’t fair to her, the fragile memory of that is so precious, he can’t imagine ever giving it up. Not even when it hurts. Not even when he has to deny it for her sake.

 

God, he’s a fucking mess.

 

He just needs her safe. That’s all. Maybe he’ll be able to concentrate then. Maybe he’ll settle down a little, find a better kind of normal than the way he’s living now. If he just knows she’s okay, living the kind of life she deserves, maybe he can cope.

 

Then again, maybe not. But she’ll be better off, and that’s all that matters.

 

He doesn’t walk long. It’s not even dark yet when he heads back to the lair. He’s not sure if the others have left yet or not, if Amelia’s left. That thought dogs him, and he isn’t sure if he wants her to still be there or if he prays that she’s already gone. 

 

Without even meaning to, Will finds himself outside the same bar for the third time. A quick drink wouldn’t hurt anything, maybe two. Just enough so he doesn’t feel quite so bad. Just enough to dull the edges of the hollow space inside him. He knows he should probably get out of there, find somewhere else to be. But where else is there? There’s the lair, where Amelia might still be. If she isn’t, his family may still be there and he knows they’ll have plenty to say. And then there’s his apartment, where Amelia’s presence lingers so strongly he swears he sees her sometimes, swears he hears her tinkling laugh and catches a hint of her perfume scenting the air.

 

He stares at the door to the bar.

 

But even as his gut clenches with need at the thought of a couple shots of whisky, another part of him realizes he doesn’t actually want to drink. He wants the darkness that comes after. He’s so close to pushing open the door and going inside that he actually stumbles backwards. 

 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Will turns away, heading back to the lair. 

 

When he gets there, though, he almost wishes he’d stayed at the bar.

 

Holding his breath, he walks back into headquarters, half-expecting a full room of people staring back at him. But there’s not. Most of the team has cleared out. It’s only his dad and Felicity left, talking intently in low voices where they stand together by the conference table. Their conversation stops the moment he walks in.

 

“Hey,” Will greets, rubbing his hand over his jaw. The stubble scratches his fingers and his mind unwittingly swings back to the kiss. He lets his hand fall to the side. “Sorry. About earlier. I just…”

 

“It’s fine,” Oliver assures him. His father takes a few steps in his direction, not even trying to hide the way he scrutinizes his appearance. “Where’d you go?”

 

_Were you drinking?_

 

The unspoken question puts Will on edge.

 

“Just around,” he replies with a little more bite than necessary. “I needed to get out of here.”

 

“William, I love you,” Oliver says quietly. “But I don’t think you have the first clue what it is you need.”

 

“That’s not…” Will grimaces, looking between his parents. “I just had to go for a walk, okay? I’m allowed that, right?”

 

His irritation and defensiveness bounce off the stoic facade his parents project. It leaves him feeling like a kid again, like that sixteen-year-old boy who was so mad at his mother for getting married. But this isn’t teenage angst and he’s not rebelling against his parents. He wants to snap at everyone around him to stop fucking pulling him in every direction when he’s just trying to find his damned footing. Why the hell can’t they all just leave him alone?

 

“I’m gonna let you boys talk,” Felicity announces, squeezing her husband’s hand and offering him a supportive smile before heading over to Will.

 

He shuffles in place when she stops right in front of him. It’s a strange thing to have loved someone your whole life - to still love them - and want nothing more than to push them away. It’s not _her_. It’s not any of them. But they’re all _too much_.

 

“Listen to your father?” she requests. He doesn’t look at her until she touches her palm to his cheek and strokes with her thumb, prompting him to cast her a nervous glance. “Just listen, Will. You have _always_ been my little boy. That’ll be true forever, no matter how old you get. We worry. That’s what parents do. So, just listen. Promise me that?”

 

It’s impossible for Will to say no to Felicity. It always has been. He looks at her and thinks of all the times she’s been the one to hold him steady when he might’ve broken otherwise. All the way back to that moment on the stairs in the brownstone when he was six and Moira’s careless words hit his tiny body like a suckerpunch. She’d carried him then, made him feel wanted and safe when everything else was so uncertain. Over and over, she’s been a pillar of strength when he might’ve otherwise crumbled.

 

But it’s not like that this time. There’s nothing left of him to support.

 

Still, he can’t say no to her. So, he gives her an almost imperceptible nod. If nothing else, he’ll listen. He owes her that much. 

 

“Thank you,” Felicity says, pushing up on her toes to kiss his temple. He lets her tug him down a bit to do it. “I love you, kiddo. No matter what. Try to remember that, would you?”

 

“Yeah,” Will says, forcing a smile. It’s not there because he feels it, but because she deserves to see it. She’s the very best stepmother he could’ve possibly asked for. He can’t have her thinking that any of his failings are her fault.

 

That doesn’t stop her from letting out a soft sigh that rings of frustration.

 

Felicity looks back at her husband, sharing a silent conversation that Will can’t interpret. But it’s over quickly. She kisses her fingertips and waves goodbye to Oliver before squeezing Will’s shoulder and heading out the door.

 

Will doesn’t watch her go. He doesn’t look at his father, either. He just stares at the floor as the door hisses shut. He tries to find a little bit of stability, a touch of calm.

 

But, it eludes him.

 

“Sit down, son.”

 

It takes effort to make himself move, much less do as his father says. A voice in the back of his head wants to fight everything, wants to be stubborn and petulant. It makes him drag his feet and grit his teeth. But he still walks. He still sits down at the conference table. And his father joins, sitting across from him.

 

That’s something.

 

“I’d ask if you’re okay, but I already know the answer,” Oliver says. “And I don’t think you’d tell me the truth anyway.”

 

Will shoots him a dark glare. “I just saw my ex-girlfriend for the first time since we broke up,” he points out, his voice all harsh tones and jagged edges. “I think I’m allowed to be a little messed up at the moment.”

 

His father sighs and leans back in his chair. “This has nothing to do with Amelia and you know it.”

 

Every one of Will’s muscles tense up. He swallows reflexively against the lump forming in his throat as his heart takes off, pounding hard enough that it feels as though it might bust right through his chest and splatter all over the table.

 

“When the Gambit went down, do you know what happened?” Oliver asks quietly. “Did I ever tell you?”

 

For a long moment, Will doesn’t answer. Mostly because he can’t find his voice.

 

“No,” he finally says. “Not in detail. I know you washed ashore. Yao Fei taught you to survive. There was… Something with people searching for mirakuru and something with some group making drugs? I know you spent some time off the island, but you weren’t really free to come home. There was ARGUS and the Bratva and something with the Chinese Triad? I don’t know, Dad. You went through a lot. Honestly, I don’t know how you survived.”

 

“One day at a time,” his father tells him. “Same way you will.”

 

Will furrows his brow. “I’m not stuck on an island, Dad.”

 

“Sure you are,” he replies as if it’s obvious.

 

“Dad-”

 

“Before all that… before Conklin and Waller and Ivo and all the others… even before the island itself, that’s when it started for me.”

 

Will blinks, not following. But that doesn’t stop his heart from pounding so furiously that he can hear the rush of blood in his ears.

 

“The boat going down was bad,” his father says, his eyes glazing over as they drift to stare into the past. “Sara slipped right through my fingers. I spent ages thinking she was dead. That was hard and I blamed myself. But most of the nightmares and the flashbacks, they’re not about that. Do you know what they’re about?”

 

Will shakes his head. “No,” he whispers, his voice breaking on the single syllable.

 

“After we made it to the raft, I was in shock. My dad and the one other guy from the Gambit who made it to the lifeboat probably were, too. Nothing made sense, but I had my dad. I was young still, incredibly sheltered. I figured that meant somehow we’d be okay.” Oliver’s eyes shift back to Will. “But then my dad pulled out a gun and killed the other man. He didn’t pause, he just… shot him. He looked at me after that, told me to survive… And then I watched as my father put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. I’ve seen a lot of things, Will. I’ve _done_ a lot of things. I have no shortage of nightmares, but that’s the one that haunts me, because it’s the one that started everything. And I think you know what that’s like.”

 

Will’s so intensely aware of his own body that even breathing feels strained and awkward. His hands sit frozen against the table with every nerve-ending oversensitizing his skin to an almost painful degree. He’s certain his father sees every little move he makes, and every one he doesn’t.

 

“You went through hell, Dad,” he says after a minute.

 

“I did,” Oliver agrees. “But so have you.” Will immediately shakes his head, but his father isn’t dissuaded, “I wish I’d seen it earlier. Maybe I just didn’t want to.”

 

“Everyone gets nightmares,” Will defends, picking at his thumbnail. “I’m okay. There are some things I could deal with better, sure. But you don’t need to worry about me.”

 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” his father replies, leaning towards Will. “Every bit of that is total bullshit. I’m your father. I’m always going to worry about you. We both know you’re not just having nightmares. And you’re so far from okay that you probably can’t even remember what okay feels like anymore.”

 

“I got better,” Will insists. “I healed. Good as new. I didn’t have five years of constantly fighting for survival. I took one shot to the gut, and it healed and I’m better and that’s it.”

 

“This is about Helena shooting you,” Oliver says in a quiet voice of realization. Will’s chest tightens, his heart beating so fast it hurts to breathe. His father’s brow furrows, blinking as he searches his memory. “Is that… When Sara got shot, you had a flashback?”

 

“N… No,” Will denies, a shock of fear slicing through him. “I just got confused.”

 

Oliver’s face is carefully neutral. “I thought you said you fell asleep.”

 

“I, uh…” It’s only as he struggles to speak that he realizes his hands are trembling. He yanks them under the table, lacing them together tight enough his skin burns. “I don’t know, okay? It doesn’t matter. It’s my business. Can we leave it alone? Can you just stop attacking me?”

 

“Will…” Pain creases Oliver’s face and he moves to reach across the table, barely stopping himself at the last minute. “Buddy, I’m not attacking you. I want to _help_ you. I want you to see that you’re _not_ alone. You’re hurting right now and you don’t have to. Not like this. You’re spending your time picking at a wound and keeping it open. You’ve gotta let it _heal_. You need to learn to deal with this. And I want you to let me help you, because I’ve been where you are before. And, son, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but there is a way through this. You can stop living with this gnawing feeling in your gut all the time and the need to distance yourself from everyone who loves you. Believe me. I know. But you’re not going to start getting better until you’re able to admit that you’re suffering in the first place.”

 

Will lets out harsh, barely-controlled breaths and he grits his teeth as hard as he can to try and calm down. His father might not feel like he’s launching an attack, but it sure as hell seems like one to him. Every bit of him feels like he’s been backed into a corner and shoved under a microscope. He wants to push back, to run. But this is his _dad,_ someone he respects beyond measure, and a part of him won’t let him treat his father’s concerns that way.

 

He clenches his hands together until the panic dissipates enough for him to speak.

 

“I’m okay,” Will says. He almost sounds convincing, even as he avoids his father’s eyes. “Sometimes it gets hard to deal with everything. I think that’s true for all firefighters. Probably true for everyone on Team Arrow, too. I don’t mean to worry you. I’m just going through some stuff.”

 

It’s quiet long enough that Will looks back up to find his father staring at him with sad, pained eyes. The look on his face twists all of Will’s feelings toward guilt. His dad’s been through so much. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, too.

 

“Just remember that you don’t have to go through it alone,” Oliver says. “When you’re ready to take an outstretched hand, mine is right here for you to grab. Always. Helping you isn’t a burden, Will. It’s a privilege.”

 

The urge to scoff is overwhelming, but he doesn’t. He knows his father well enough to know he means it, even if Will doesn’t understand.

 

“But it’s one you have to allow me,” his dad continues. “And I can see you’re not there yet.”

 

The words are somehow both a comfort and a let-down. Will’s eyes drift to Oliver’s hand where it sits between them on the table. His father isn’t demanding anything, isn’t forcing him to face problems he’s not ready to talk about. And yet, part of him wishes he would. It’s a startling realization that leaves him wondering if maybe he really _should_ talk to someone… If maybe he _does_ need to find a way to voice the awful things in his head. It’s hard, though. It’s _so_ hard. Just the thought of speaking about his nightmares aloud, about his flashbacks, his drinking, all the ways he knows he’s not enough…

 

It makes his tongue grow heavy and his jaw clench like it’s wired shut.

 

“Just don’t forget I’m here,” Oliver adds. “Day or night. Anytime. I understand what dealing with trauma is like better than most people. I know it can leave you feeling helpless and like you’re no good to anyone. I get how it eats away at you. When you decide you’re done letting it win, all you have to do is say something. _Anything_. You’ve got a dozen people ready to help you fight back and I’ll be the first one in line to support you. No matter what.”

 

There’s no way his voice will work at this point, but Will nods.

 

It’s a small gesture, one he actually has to force himself to make, but he does it anyway. And, in some ways, it feels like the tiniest step in the right direction. His father’s eyes smile back in gentle approval that doesn’t push him for more. And, for the millionth time, it hits Will how incredibly lucky he is to have this man as his dad. The little boy who’d nervously shown up at the park with his mother to be introduced to the father he’d never met had no idea how damned fortunate he really was.

 

“You are-” Will starts, but he’s cut off by a sudden burst of noise filling the lair.

 

He and his father both jolt, each of them on high alert at the distinctive sounds of battle filling the room.

 

“What…?” Will asks, looking around as if attackers might be fighting in the shadows.

 

“It’s the comms,” Oliver says, shoving himself to his feet and rushing to the computers.

 

“Whose?” Will demands, following suit. Nobody’s in the field, he knows that just by virtue of the fact that his dad is here right now and Felicity left. Who would…? A pained feminine cry rings out in the air and ice runs straight down his spine. “Oh God, _Amelia_.”

 

“It’s her phone,” his father says, tapping a few buttons. “She’s at her apartment. There’s…” But Will isn’t listening. Not with Amelia in the middle of a fight and obviously in need of help. Not with all the living nightmares he’s been grappling with suddenly threatening to become true. 

 

 _No_. 

 

He’s not going to let it happen. He’s not going to lose her, damn it. 

 

Breaking into a full run and ignoring his father’s sharp, “Will, wait,” he grabs a gun and a clip from the wall of weapons and bolts for the door. “ _William!”_

 

It’s only because he veers slightly to grab a comm that his father catches up before Will barrels out of the lair. Oliver barely has the passenger door shut when Will peels out of the parking garage. He bypasses the car’s self-drive feature and mans the vehicle himself. He needs to be there _now_ , five minutes ago, half an hour ago. He needs to have never let her out of his sight in the first place.

 

“Damn it, Will, we can’t help her if we don’t get there in one piece,” Oliver snaps as they barrel through a red light.

 

Will doesn’t answer. He keeps his attention on the road as he shoves the comm into his ear. The fighting continues, but it’s muffled, like she dropped her phone. God, he hopes that doesn’t mean what he thinks. He tries desperately to discern on exactly what’s going on, but it’s hard to pick out distinct noises…

 

A gunshot rings out.

 

He lets out a strangled, panicked cry until Amelia mutters, “Son of a bitch,” with no evidence of life-threatening trauma in her voice.

 

“Take a breath,” his father tells him and Will sucks in air with a sharp inhale, a burst of oxygen hitting his lungs all at once. “Goddamn it, you should’ve let me drive.”

 

“No time,” he replies hoarsely, taking a corner faster than he should. He manages to keep control of the car, even as he skids to avoid hitting a sedan. He slaps at his ear until the comm turns on from his end. “Amelia, can you hear me? We’re coming. Just hang on.”

 

She doesn’t answer, but the sounds of battle continue. The crash of a lamp and a man’s grunt ring out as another man lets out a vicious trail of curses.

 

“Amelia knows what she’s doing,” Oliver reminds him. “She can fight.”

 

“She’s got more than one man attacking her _right now_ and I’m not there,” Will snaps back. Frustration and helplessness mix with a violent sense of panic in his stomach and he doesn’t give a thought to his words as they fall out. “She’s the love of my fucking life and she’s fighting to survive because she’s so _good_ that she stands up and does what’s right, even when she knows it’s gonna put a target on her back. She deserves better than this, damn it, she deserves everything. But this is what she gets because the world is shit and people like her always get the short stick. Always. She should be safe and happy and goddamned _celebrated_ while she works to make the world a better place, just because she can. Because that’s her. It’s who she is. But instead she gets _this_.”

 

“Life’s not fair,” his father agrees as they whip onto Amelia’s street. Her building looms at the end of the block. “But she’d be the first to tell you that happiness is something you have to fight for and that safety is overrated.”

 

Will doesn’t have it in him to think about his father’s words, much less respond. The only thing going through his mind is images of her struggling to survive.

 

 _Amelia. Amelia. Amelia_.

 

His heart beats out her name, roaring through his ears.

 

Will slams to a stop in front of her building, the car sliding to a screeching halt. He throws it in park, grabs his gun and scrambles for the doors as fast as his feet can carry him with his father close behind.

 

Once upon a time, his father could’ve left him in the dust, but that’s not true now. Maybe it’s his dad’s bad knee, which has gotten so much worse in recent years. Maybe it’s the adrenaline fueling him beyond his usual capabilities. Whatever it is, Will leans into it, taking the stairs two at a time, not feeling the exertion as he scales the four floors to Amelia’s apartment.

 

When he gets there, he doesn’t slow down to try the doorknob. Instead, he barrels into her front door shoulder-first with all his weight, slamming it open with his gun already flying up.

 

Part of him expects the worst. Thad’s prediction runs around his mind unchecked - _“How many of them can she take on at once, do you think? How many until it’s too much and you come home to find her body battered and lifeless on your living room floor?”_ \- but that’s not the sight that greets him.

 

Amelia jumps, whirling to the door with a butcher knife in hand, eyes wide and wild. 

 

She’s a fearsome sight, splatters of blood covering her, face hard and ready, every inch of her braced for more attackers. It takes her a moment to realize who’s standing in front of her, but when she finally does, a weak sob of his name slips from her throat and she collapses back against her kitchen island, dropping the knife and covering her mouth. 

 

Will can see the shock setting in, but then her gaze drops to the bodies lying at her feet. 

 

A strained keen sounds from behind her hand as she pales, eyes widening in horror. One man is clearly dead. The mask that all of Domino’s boys wear shifted enough so Will can see his glassy eyes staring unfixed at the ceiling with a bullet hole through his throat. Another seems to be unconscious. The third probably wishes he was. He’s fading in and out, unable to move thanks to a knife spearing through his shoulder, embedded in the flooring beneath.

 

“C’mere,” Will says, pointing his gun to the shadows and reaching his other hand out to Amelia. She stumbles forward, shaking as she falls into his arms. “I’ve got you, honey,” he promises, kissing her temple before letting her go and putting her behind him. He doesn’t drop her hand, though, not even as he starts clearing her apartment, going room to room, ensuring there aren’t more men lying in wait.

 

Amelia doesn’t make a sound, but she clenches his hand so tight that her nails nearly draw blood.

 

They come back into the living room just as his father finishes securing the surviving attackers. “We clear?” 

 

“Yes,” Will confirms before clicking the gun’s safety. He shoves the pistol haphazardly into the back of his jeans before turning all his attention to Amelia. “Look at me. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She’s shell-shocked, pale as a sheet and shaking so hard he’s afraid she’s going to hurt herself. “Talk to me, honey. Where are you hurt?”

 

“She’s going into shock,” Oliver says, as if Will didn’t already know the signs.

 

“My… my arm. They cut…” Amelia holds out her left arm. There’s a three-inch long gash just above her elbow, slicing upwards. “It should hurt,” she adds, her voice quivers, breaking mid-sentence. There’s a sense of primordial panic living in her eyes. Her hair’s a wild mess of tangles and there’s swelling that will definitely become a bruise along her cheekbone. Blood drips from her nose down over a split lip. “It should hurt. But I just… I’m cold. I’m just cold. Oh my God, why is it so cold?”

 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing his hands over her back. “You did great. Okay? You’re amazing.”

 

“That man is dead,” she notes, looking at the bodies again. A pool of blood slowly grows larger under the corpse she stares at. “It was supposed to be me. I moved. The other man shot him instead. The one with the knife in him. I stabbed him. _I_ did that.”

 

Hearing that does nothing to slow the adrenaline coursing through Will’s veins. “You survived,” he reminds her. “You did what you had to. This is on them, not you.”

 

She holds her hands up and blinks at her blood-coated fingers as they flex.

 

“You were smart to initiate the comm link on your phone,” Oliver tells her, reaching over to pick up her cell where it sits discarded beneath one of the men’s legs. “Thank God they were on speakers at the bunker.”

 

“I stabbed him,” Amelia repeats, staring uncomprehendingly at Oliver. “And that man is dead on my floor.”

 

“Yes, he is,” Oliver replies in a measured and even voice, standing from where he was crouched at the assailants’ sides. He makes his way over to Amelia and grips her bloodied hands in support. Amelia just stares at him. “You defended yourself. And you did a damn good job of it. Mourn the choices that man made, if you have to, but don’t mourn the outcome of them… You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”

 

“No,” she breathes, looking back at Will with lost, tear-filled eyes. “Will?”

 

“I’m here,” Will says, rubbing her back more as she starts to shiver violently. “Dad, can you hand me my coat that’s over there? She’s shaking.”

 

“Yeah,” his father agrees, moving to grab it and drape it over Amelia’s shoulders. Will tugs it tighter around her before tucking her back into his arms. She still shakes some, but it’s not as intense. 

 

“We should get you to a hospital,” Will says.

 

“No,” Amelia insists, fear rising in her voice as she clings to him.

 

“Amelia…”

 

“No, I don’t want to. I want… I don’t know. I don’t want the hospital,” she says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You can take care of me.”

 

Will’s heart does a somersault at that. “Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. “I can take care of you.”

 

“The police are on their way,” Oliver says, breaking the moment.

 

“What?” Will asks, looking at his dad as Amelia grips his shirt a little harder and makes a pained noise that sets him even more on edge. “ _Why_?”

 

“This is an apartment, Will,” Oliver points out. “She has neighbors who definitely heard everything. There’s a dead man. What are we going to do, dump his body somewhere? ...No. We need the police this time. We need these men ID’d as soon as possible and we might as well let the SCPD do that work for us. And, more importantly, we can build a case for witness intimidation against Domino.”

 

While his father has a point, Will just wants to spare Amelia any further trauma. Unbidden, the memory of waiting at the police station together rises. And, for a second, he’s right back in that moment when their pinkies tentatively brushed against each other while he fought to find a balance between supporting her and keeping his distance.

 

It’s funny how things come full circle when you least expect them to.

 

“Come on,” Will says, carefully avoiding Amelia’s swollen cheek as he brushes her messy hair behind her ear. “Let’s go get you cleaned up a little before the police get here.”

 

She nods, looking helpless and hopeless as she allows him to tug her by the fingers to her guest bathroom. The lighting is better in there and he immediately spots a whole lot more cuts and bruises starting to mar her skin.

 

“What did they do to you?” he murmurs. It’s under his breath, but she catches it.

 

“Less than I did to them,” she replies, giving him a broken look.

 

“Don’t think of it that way,” he tells her, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “They acted and forced you to react to save your own life. That’s all.”

 

“Yeah,” she echoes, the word fading as he soaks a cotton ball and touches it to a cut on her brow. She hisses a little. Whether that’s because it stings or out of shock at the chill, he’s not sure.

 

“How’d this happen?” he asks, locking eyes with her.

 

“Um… One of the guys has a ring. He backhanded me.”

 

Will nods even as a rush of anger wallops him. He digs his teeth into the inside of his lip. Now isn’t the time to focus on those bastards. She needs him. 

 

He uses the cotton ball to wipe away blood and sweat from the skin of her brow. He stops to get a new one when the cotton turns a sickly shade of pink.

 

“And here?” he asks, wiping at her nose and lip.

 

“Butt of a gun,” Amelia answers, barely moving her mouth. Her lip still catches on the cotton. “When I went for the knife.”

 

“Here?” he asks, ghosting his fingers above the swollen ridge of her cheekbone.

 

“My purse fell when I tried to grab my comm out of it,” she replies, her voice breaking in the middle as tears well up and spill down her cheeks. “I dove to get it and one of them stomped on my face with his boot.”

 

The rage that boils up inside him is nearly overwhelming. He doesn’t ask which guy it was, because he needs to assume it’s the dead man. He _hopes_ it’s him, because - God help him - anyone who would treat Amelia that way is someone he does not want walking this earth.

 

“I couldn’t get it,” she chokes out. “But I had my… my phone and Felicity put that emergency thing on there. But I’d dropped it, too. So I went back for it, and then one of them… One of them tried to grab my throat.” Amelia taps her neck manically. “I panicked. I almost lost it. All I could feel was fingers squeezing. I don’t know how I managed to get away before he really got hold of me. I just… I was back in City Hall for a minute. I was that helpless, untrained woman, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Will croaks, feeling her words far deeper than he’d prefer to admit. “Yeah, I know, honey.”

 

“Part of me still feels like her,” Amelia whispers, staring at his shoulder without seeing it. “That fear. It’s still there.”

 

“But you fought them off anyway,” he reminds her. “You pushed through it. I don’t know that I could.”

 

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” she asks, her eyes finding his. “Freezing when it matters most?”

 

A broken laugh bursts past his lips. “I’m afraid of so many things, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

 

“If you don’t know where to start, then you can’t see where it ends,” Amelia says quietly. He can tell the words slip out without any real thought. But the simple, heartfelt honesty of her statement hits him hard anyhow. She looks at the sink, seeing nothing at all. “I don’t want to panic next time. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

He swallows hard and shuts his eyes. _Next time_. His stomach clenches with dread. They’re not even through this crisis and she’s already anticipating the next. All he wants to do is keep her from it. All he wants is to know that there won’t _be_ a next time.

 

“Can I take the coat?” he asks. She jolts, pulling it tighter around herself and giving him a pained look. “Just for a minute,” he clarifies, wishing it didn’t mean so much that she’s come to claim his coat as her own, that it clearly has so much meaning to her. “I need to clean your arm.”

 

“Oh,” Amelia whispers before nodding. “Okay.”

 

He gently slips the coat off her shoulders and drapes it across the bathroom sink. His fingers ghost over her arm. It’s nowhere near the cut, but she still tenses up.

 

“We’re gonna need to take off your shirt,” he tells her. He doesn’t have it in him to try any of his normal jokes or flirting to lessen the weight of what he’s saying. “Your sleeve is in the way and we need to clean that out. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Amelia assures him. “But I might need help. It’s starting to hurt. I think the shock is wearing off. It throbs.”

 

She should probably use it as little as possible, now that she mentions it. And he definitely doesn’t want her raising her arms over her head.

 

“You don’t intend to try and salvage this shirt, do you?” Will asks. She shakes her head. “Okay. We’ll cut it off, then. I’ll be right back. Stay here and don’t lift your arm, okay?”

 

“‘Kay,” she breathes, shifting in place. When he takes a step back, he doesn’t miss the flare of panic in her eyes before she squares her jaw. She fidgets, her hands coming up to rub her arms before remembering the cut and letting them fall with a grimace. It doesn’t stop her from trembling or from trying to give him a reassuring smile. She doesn’t want to be alone, he realizes. She’s scared and vulnerable.

 

“I’m just grabbing scissors from the kitchen and a fresh shirt,” he reminds her. Amelia’s breath hitches. “I’ll be right here the whole time. And my dad’s right out there keeping an eye on the attackers. Okay? If you want, I’ll have him come stand with you for a few minutes while I gather things up.”

 

She shuts her eyes, pinching them tightly as she fights with what to say. “It’s not your dad I want with me, Will,” Amelia admits on a little sob. She opens her eyes to give him a desperate look. “You’re not interchangeable with _anyone_.”

 

A lump lodges in his throat and he can’t find the words to reply. So instead he steps back toward her and pulls her close. Another sob falls from her as she burrows close. He presses a kiss to her temple as he inhales unsteadily, letting her scent wash over him.

 

 _I almost lost this. I almost lost the chance to do this ever again. I almost lost her_.

 

But he’s already lost her in some ways, hasn’t he?

 

That thought slams into him as he strokes her hair. He’d never been good enough for her in the first place and she was always going to leave, one way or another. He’s known that from the start. It’s whispered in his ear whenever he’s stopped to listen. But he can’t lose her _this_ way. Not to Domino. Not knowing that she’s dead. He can live with almost anything else, but not that.

 

“It’ll just be a minute,” Will promises, letting her go as she nods. He steps out, closing the door just enough to ensure her privacy, but not enough that he can’t hear her if she calls for him.

 

Leaving her behind to go a room or two away shouldn’t be hard, but she just looks so lost. It takes more effort than it should to go back into the living room, but he does it anyway, finding his father securing more zip-ties around the wrists of one of the attackers. The guy is coming to, groggy as hell with a lump on his forehead that Will would bet good money came from the table lamp now shattered on the floor. He probably has a concussion, but for the first time in his life Will has no urge to provide first aid. He probably would, if Amelia wasn’t hurt. That’s the job. It’s who he is. But she takes priority.

 

“She okay?” Oliver asks, moving to zip-tie the man’s feet together, too.

 

“She will be,” Will confirms. “Gonna have to cut her shirt off, though.”

 

“There are scissors in the kitchen,” his dad tells him. “Found them when I found the zip-ties. But you probably already knew that.”

 

“Yeah,” Will replies vaguely, heading to the kitchen. The pool of blood from the dead man has soaked through a huge area of the carpet in Amelia’s living room. He winces as he walks through it, unable to avoid it entirely to get where he needs to go.

 

He pauses at the sight waiting for him. The kitchen is a disaster. Signs of struggle are everywhere. Cabinets stand open and drawers sit pulled out. Shards of plates and a few glasses litter the floor. Somehow his ‘Firefighters Like It Hot!’ mug sits untouched next to her coffee maker. Seeing it there, like she’s been using it even after the breakup, brings a sense of hopefulness and sadness that mixes in a strange swirl of emotion he can only really describe as longing.

 

Forcing his eyes away, he grabs the scissors from her junk drawer. “Just gonna grab her a clean shirt, too,” Will tells his father as he rounds the corner.

 

A pair of police officers stand in the doorway.

 

“Make it fast,” Oliver advises him before standing to talk with the SCPD.

 

Will heads to her bedroom. Behind him, he can hear his father intervene as the officers protest, demanding to know what happened. Her place will be crawling with first responders any minute. Hell, if he’d been on duty, he might’ve been on one of the trucks called in. It’s not his area, but a body and three injured people isn’t a small matter.

 

He grabs the first sleeveless shirt he finds - a Central City Comets tank top - and jogs back to the bathroom.

 

Amelia tenses when he opens the door, falling back into a defensive stance that only loosens when she registers it’s him. He still freezes, waiting for her to meet his gaze so that he can see she know that he’s not a threat.

 

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, shutting the door behind him. “I should’ve knocked.”

 

“Well,” she replies, swallowing and forcing a little levity into her voice. “It _is_ the bathroom.”

 

Despite himself, his lips twitch into a smile. “C’mere,” he says, holding up scissors. “Let’s get your shirt off.”

 

Amelia sighs, shifting toward him. “I imagined you saying that under very different circumstances.”

 

Will’s nose twitches and his lips press together as he fights a laugh. It’s a weird feeling in conjunction with everything else going on. There’s a war of emotion in him, and he has no idea which side is winning. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, and he definitely doesn’t trust himself to make choices of any consequence. While there might be a newfound urgency to everything, their situation hasn’t changed. She still deserves better. She’ll either leave when she realizes that, or when someone gets the best of her. And he’s still an absolute mess of a person who has no business being in a relationship with anyone.

 

But he was right all those years ago when he told her that he thought he’d always love her. He will. And he can’t help wanting to connect with her, to _be_ with her in any sense of the word, even if he knows it’s a bad idea.

 

Her shirt is thin, owing to the thick July heat that’s settled over the city, and it cuts away easily. By far, the hardest part of getting the ruined material off her is pulling it away from her wound. The blood has started to dry, leaving the fabric glued to her skin.

 

When she tries to pull it away and cries out in pain, Will intervenes. “Wait. Give me a second.”

 

He grabs one of the towels hanging behind her and soaks it under the faucet before gently wetting the ruined shirt. A moment later it falls away from her body with no effort at all, leaving her wound easily accessible.

 

Will freezes when he sees the rest of her body. More bruises, more pain. For the first time he can remember, seeing her standing there in a bra is the furthest thing from a turn on. All he sees is mottled skin and evidence of the brutal way she was treated.

 

It doesn’t make sense. He can’t understand how anyone could do that to another person at all. But to _Amelia_ … 

 

“Take a deep breath,” Will orders, setting his hands gently on either side of her ribcage.

 

“I don’t have any broken bones,” Amelia protests.

 

“Humor me, honey,” he requests, meeting her eye. She returns his gaze with a strained look, confusion and nerves lining her face as she hesitates to respond. And, in an instant, he knows why.

 

_Honey._

 

It’d just slipped out. Has he said it more than once today? Probably. It’s second nature to him now. His tongue has turned traitor to his mind and he doesn’t quite know how to stop it.

 

“Please, Amelia,” Will amends.

 

She finally complies with a nod. He returns it before shifting to all business, appraising her pain level and her responses, evaluating her for hidden wounds. But, in the end, she’s right. The worst of what she’s suffered are substantial bruises and the gash on her arm that could probably use stitches. It’s still bleeding more steadily than he’d like.

 

“The police are here,” Will tells her as he gets to work cleaning her arm. When she tenses, it’s not because of pain. “It’s okay. We called them. They need to be here. And you won’t have to face them alone. No one is going to blame you for defending yourself. I promise. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” she says. It’s a much easier agreement than he’d expected. “If you promise.”

 

Will’s fingers falter. There are times that her level of trust in him absolutely floors him.

 

“I, uh… I don’t have anything to stitch you up with here,” he notes after he’s done cleaning the wound. “And I don’t like how heavily it’s bleeding.”

 

“It’s fine,” she says, glancing at her arm with a pained expression. “I’m a bleeder. This is ordinary for me with a cut.”

 

Will furrows his brow and works his jaw back and forth as he considers that. “We really should get you to a doctor.”

 

“No hospitals,” Amelia replies, her voice going higher with rising panic.

 

“Amelia, you _work_ at a hospital,” he reminds her.

 

“This is different,” she says. “This is… I can’t. With the gowns and the antiseptic smell and just laying there, waiting for them to tell you if you’re okay, I just… I can’t.”

 

“Were you always afraid of hospitals?” Will asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

 

“I’ve never liked them, but since…” Amelia’s fingers graze her throat. “Since City Hall...”

 

His eyes linger where he knows an imprint of fingers once sat. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees in a wet voice.

 

“I can still stitch you up as long as that bleeding slows down,” he says. “Just not here. We should probably get some antibiotics in you, too, just in case. The, uh…” Will pauses and reevaluates his words in deference to the fact that there are probably a room full of cops on the other side of the bathroom door. “The place we were before has that. I’ll have my mom drop by and get some supplies.”

 

“Thank you,” Amelia whispers, tangling her fingers with his as she looks up at him.

 

He could drown in the soft blue of her gaze. She’s hypnotic. “‘Course,” Will says, staring back.

 

It’s only a soft knock on the bathroom door that breaks the moment. Amelia jumps, looking to the side, letting go of him to run her fingers through her hair. When they get tangled on some strands coated in blood, she stops breathing, her face paling again. He grabs her hand to ground her to the here and now. He knows it works when her gaze meets his again.

 

“They need to talk to her,” his father says. His voice is quiet and gentle, like he’s fully aware of how on edge Amelia must be right now. He probably is. “When you’re done.”

 

“Don’t have the stuff for stitches here,” Will tells his dad. “She’s about cleaned up. Give us a minute to get her shirt on.”

 

Will bandages her arm as best he can with the supplies on hand before grabbing the tank top and kneeling down to help her step into it. It’s a much better choice than her raising her arms. Her hands find his shoulder for balance as she lifts her feet for him. Thankfully the fabric is stretchy, but he still holds his breath when he stands up and works the strap over her left arm, taking care to not touch her wound at all.

 

A relieved exhale ghosts past his lips when he’s done. He’s still looking at the wound when Amelia’s palm rests against his cheek. Her fingers stroke through his beard as she looks at him with so much blatant affection that it stuns him. She doesn’t hide any of it, not like she used to. It’s like a switch got flipped somewhere. After so many years of wearing his heart on his sleeve while she held herself back, they’ve exchanged places.

 

“Thank you, Will,” she says before taking a fortifying breath and straightening her spine. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

 

She shifts right in front of him, pulls herself together, and adopts a composure he knows she doesn’t really feel. It’s only then, when she walks through the door to face the police and the bodies on her apartment floor, that he realizes precisely how much she’s let her guard down with him.

 

The way she chooses to let herself be vulnerable with him, even though he’s already proven he’s not worthy of it, sets his mind spinning. She shouldn’t want him to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He’s already pushed her away. He’s cruelly, vividly illustrated that her heart is not safe in his hands. And yet, in spite of everything, she keeps handing it to him while he tries to lock his own away. He hasn’t had much success there, he can admit that. Loving her comes to him as easily and as necessarily as breathing. Hiding that is really his only recourse, but even that isn’t something he’s consistently great at.

 

Distance helps a little, in one regard. The last week has been miserable in every way possible, but at least he hadn’t been sending mixed messages. Not that it really seems to matter. Distance or not, she’s steadfast in her blatant affection for him. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s true and he can’t deny it. 

 

Especially now, as she reaches back for his hand, knowing she’ll find it there as she goes through the motions of answering police questions and letting them photograph her injuries.

 

He mostly tunes out their conversation. The details of it are too much and his imagination is too vivid. When she squeezes his fingers, he’s not sure if it’s because she’s looking to borrow some of his strength, or if she’s lending him part of her own.

 

Maybe it’s both. Maybe together they build off of each other, leaving them both better for it.

 

That feels true in moments like this.

 

“... should consider witness protection,” an officer says, breaking through Will’s thoughts.

 

“What?” Will asks, his eyes snapping to the uniformed man.

 

The officer and his partner trade looks. “It would be hard to overstate the danger your girlfriend is in,” the other cop tells him. Will doesn’t bother correcting her on the title, but he does flinch at it. It’s a look the cops clearly misread. “At this point, it’s more likely than not that Domino ordered a hit to take her out so she can’t testify at the trial next month. It didn’t work this time, but now she’s a witness for a whole different trial for these guys, too. He’s got double the incentive to get rid of her. We have every reason to be concerned for her safety.”

 

“I’m not going into witness protection,” Amelia says, shaking her head. “I won’t run from him. I have people who rely on me, a job I need to be there for. I’m not hiding.”

 

“There’s no shame in protecting yourself,” the first officer tells her. “Your job and loved ones will be waiting for you after the trial.”

 

“I’m not doing it,” Amelia repeats. “I protected myself this time. I can do it again, if I have to.”

 

Will should be disappointed by her answer. Hadn’t that been exactly what he’d wanted? Amelia away and safe? Protected? And yet, the idea of not being able to see her makes him briefly sick to his stomach. And her stubborn nature asserting itself and demanding to remain a part of the world - part of _his_ world - has his heart racing.

 

“For the record, that’s a bad choice,” the second officer says. “But it’s yours to make. Do you have somewhere safe to stay? We’ll need at least a week to process your apartment as a crime scene.”

 

“With me,” Will interjects. The words tumble past his lips before he even thinks them. But his hand grips Amelia’s tighter and he swallows hard before backing the idea up. “She can stay with me. I’m trained to protect myself. My father’s bodyguards saw to that when I was just a kid. And they have a security agency. I’ll ask them to lend us someone to watch over her at work and if she goes out.”

 

“You don’t have to-”

 

“I do,” Will says, cutting Amelia off. “I do have to. I need to see that you’re safe. Do you understand?”

 

There’s so much he’s asking in that one question. Somehow, he thinks she hears it all.

 

Amelia nods, her eyes searching his as her lips press together. “Yes,” she says quietly. “I understand. And I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

 

It’s a very tempting, open-ended offer.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of trouble with my wrist lately, probably tendonitis. Typing hurts. If I leave shorter replies to comments this week (or in the near future), please know that that's why. <3

 

_She can’t breathe._

 

Syrupy air clogs Amelia’s lungs, choking her voice and drowning her more with each desperate inhale. She fights for oxygen, rubbing at her throat. But it’s hard to even do that. Her arms move slowly, like they’re weighted down. 

 

“No,” she chokes, the word strangled and drawn out. Her lips try to move, to say more, but she feels like a marionette puppet whose strings have been cut. “ _No_.”

 

Giving up means dying. It means losing herself. And she won’t go quietly.

 

Blinking in slow motion, the blurry sheen of thick air clears enough for a room to form. It sharpens with each sluggish flutter of her eyelids. Where is she? A one-way mirror takes up an entire wall of the room, and on the other side of it…

 

 _Will_.

 

He stands there, staring straight ahead, paying no attention to the blood slowly seeping out of his scar.

 

A deafening scream fills her ears. It’s her - her voice, screaming in her head - but her lips don’t move. _She_ barely moves, but she doesn’t let that stop her. Every ounce of her resolve powers her forward. She throws herself at the glass, her mouth open as she tries to let out the scream tearing her mind to pieces. But not even a whisper makes it past her lips. She pounds her fist against the mirror in slow-motion, his name echoing in her head, but nothing happens. Everything she tries, _anything_ she tries, it isn’t enough. He can’t hear her, can’t see her, doesn’t even know she’s there.

 

_No, no, no, no!_

 

The word races through her mind, but her tongue’s too heavy to work. Even the tears welling in her eyes spill like molasses down her cheeks, slow and sticky. Her fingers curl against the glass, trying to scrape with her nails, but they’re too soft, bending against the immutable surface of the mirror.

 

_Will!_

 

She watches him look down at his midsection. His face is blank, uncaring as he pokes at the wound, doing nothing to staunch the flow of blood. It slips down his hip, his leg, soaking his clothes, coating his hand, but he still does _nothing_ , even as it rushes to pool at his feet.

 

He’s moving normally, she realizes, not like her. She can’t reach him. She’ll never make it.

 

“You always were too slow,” a voice says at her side.

 

Amelia starts with a cry only she can hear. An icy shock of terror washes through her as she turns to see who’s beside her. Instead of taking a fraction of a second, it’s nearly half a minute before she’s angled enough to spy the figure slumped against the mirror next to her. 

 

Or, rather, what’s left of it. 

 

She stumbles back out of instinct, but she can’t _move_. She can’t get away from the half-rotten corpse that pushes off the glass and takes a few lurching steps towards her.

 

“You’re no hero,” Mayor Lance’s body says. 

 

Amelia screams, but nothing happens. She can’t _do_ anything. Half of the mayor’s face has rotted through right to the bone. The dead woman’s flesh hangs from her in rotting strips, like gray tissue paper, leaving gaping holes in her body that Amelia can see right through. A thick stream of coagulated blood dribbles from the corpse’s mouth, just like it had when she was stabbed. A rush of horror nearly sends Amelia to her knees, drowning her, churning her insides… But even through all that, she knows she needs to get to Will, to help him. From the corner of her eye she sees him growing paler, falling against the mirror as he watches himself bleed.

 

“You’re just a girl,” the mayor’s corpse reminds her. The body lifts a hand to brush away tears clinging to Amelia’s cheek. Her fingers are only bone, caked with dead flesh and dirt. They scrape against Amelia’s skin, leaving a smear of gore behind. “You wish you were more. I know you do. But wishing doesn’t do anything. I wish I were alive. Will wishes you were strong enough to reach him. We all have our dreams. It doesn’t mean they’re real.”

 

“Used to be,” Amelia manages. Each word is a battle. “Not… willing-”

 

“To stay that way,” Mayor Lance finishes. Her voice is light, mocking, almost sing-song. “That’s what you’re trying to say, right? That you’ve _changed?_ That you’re _better_ now?”

 

Amelia tries to nod, screaming in her head.

 

_Yes!_

 

The half of the mayor’s face that hasn’t rotted away twists into an ill-formed smile, chilling Amelia to the bone. “You are who you are. Who you’ve always been. You _try_. But you’re never enough. You never were. Not to save me, much less the city. Everything you’re working toward will amount to nothing, just as it always has. And deep down, you know that. It’s your fate, Providence, to forever fall short.”

 

“No,” Amelia grits out.

 

“At least she’s consistent in her stubbornness,” another voice says. 

 

This one she knows. A chill falls down her spine as Laurel’s body fades away, making room for another figure stepping toward her where the mayor stood just seconds ago. The man before her wears one of Domino’s masks, hiding his face, but she knows who it is.

 

“Thad,” she manages in a broken whisper, a sob quick on its heels. 

 

“You’ve always been so weak,” he tells her. She jerks as if he’d hit her. She can’t see his eyes, but she feels them digging into her own, turning her back into the small, beaten-down person she’d once been. “That’s why you were better off with me. At least I made you useful. It’s not like you’ve ever accomplished much of anything on your own, have you? You fail again and again without me.”

 

Amelia tries to shake her head. “Not… your pawn,” she gasps, rubbing at her throat to make it work. But the syrupy air only clogs it more.

 

Movement catches her eye and she looks back to the glass where Will’s leaning even more now, his bloodied hands leaving smears as he tries to stay upright. She has to get to him. He’s _dying_ , slowly, right in front of her. She has to reach him, needs to save him.

 

She lunges forward, desperate to at least touch the glass. If she can just get to him, if she can make him try to save himself, maybe he’ll be okay.

 

But Thad yanks her back before she can move more than a few inches. She scrambles to get away but he slams her against the mirror as she screams, trying to pull his hands off her.

 

“It’s astounding to me that you thought you were enough for your William,” he says darkly. “You’re just a silly girl clinging to the one person who makes you feel like you’re something more. Maybe if you _were_ more, if you were as perfect as he likes to pretend you are, then he’d believe you’d stay. But somewhere inside, he knows you’ll fail with him just like you have with everything else. Like you will with the trial, with the hospital, with your quest for justice. Maybe someone stronger could’ve gotten through to him. But you’re just… you.”

 

Amelia claws at Thad’s hands, but her nails just bend and break. She tries to scream, but the noise gets caught in her throat.

 

“We’ll end you because you’re forcing us to,” Thad says, closing his hand around her throat with an iron grip. Panic sets in and Amelia starts thrashing, but it’s no use. He lifts her up against the glass. He’s toying with her, because he can, showing that he has control over her. Just as he always did. She can hear the smirk in his voice as he continues. “And it won’t even matter. Because _you_ don’t matter. You never have. What a pity.”

 

“Rather fail on my own,” she rasps. “Than succeed because of you.”

 

“So prideful,” he murmurs before gritting his teeth. “You can choke on it.”

 

His hand tightens around her throat, too firm, too hard. Every bit of her consciousness screams. Her toes scrape against the floor as she fights to take some of the pressure off her throat, but black spots dance before her eyes. She struggles to get a breath, one of her hands pressing against his shoulder, the other clawing at his hold, trying to get away, but he’s too strong.

 

He laughs, a low, throaty noise that’s going to be the last thing she ever hears.

 

Amelia _screams_.

 

The sound rips out of her, filling the air with blood-curdling terror as she jerks up in bed. She doesn’t stop screaming, scraping at her throat with a manic, mindless fear that doesn’t register she’s no longer asleep. Like a vise, the hand clenches around her windpipe, cutting off her air supply and sending her mind into a blurry tailspin. Pain rakes down her throat as she claws to free herself. The panic that fills her barely misses a beat as the bedroom door slams open.

 

Will, it’s Will. Her vision blurs from lack of oxygen, but she’d know his silhouette anywhere. Backlit by the lamp in the living room, he stands shirtless in the doorway in pajama bottoms with a gun in his hands, eyes darting around the room.

 

“Can’t…” Amelia gasps, clawing at her neck. Someone’s choking her. Domino or Thad or Ketherington. Someone’s hand is around her throat, cutting off her air, and she can’t get them off. “I… Will, help, I… can’t…”

 

“Amelia, _stop_.” Will curses, hurrying over to her. He drops the gun on the nightstand before gripping her hands and pulling them away from her throat. Instinct has her fighting him. She has to get the hands off her neck. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself. Honey, it’s a nightmare. You’re breathing. _Stop_.”

 

“Not,” she counters, shaking her head rapidly. She can _feel_ it, the cold grip of fingers clamping around her throat.

 

“You’re talking,” he points out, tightening his hold on her hands. “You’re talking, which means you have air. You know that.” His eyes are steady, so blue and familiar. She locks onto that and tries to believe him. “It was a nightmare. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

 

Every part of her shakes with a bone-deep fear she can’t expel. “It was a dream?”

 

Pained sympathy contorts his features as Will kisses her knuckles. “Yeah. You need to calm down. Slow your breathing.”

 

She can’t, though. Air seems precious and hard-won and it’s like her body is making up for the lack of oxygen she _knows_ she suffered just moments ago. Only… Only she didn’t, did she? It seemed that way, but it’d all been in her head. 

 

Then why can’t she _breathe_?

 

“Copy me, honey,” Will says, placing her hand on his chest as he sits next to her on the bed. He presses close, wrapping her in his warmth. “Remember? Eyes on me. Breathe with me, okay? One at a time. Nice and slow.”

 

It feels impossible. But she also trusts him. He’s a lifeline, a bridge between the terrors of her mind and the calm of his bedroom. So she listens and she tries.

 

Slowly - _too slowly_ \- it starts to work.

 

Her heartbeat still pounds, but it doesn’t feel like it’s about to burst from her chest anymore. Her head still spins, but that’s probably residual shock, not from a flood of oxygen to her system. The emotional toll, however... That doesn’t fade in the least, as the nightmare comes back to her.

 

“You’re okay,” Amelia sobs, pulling her hand from his to touch his scar. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

 

He frowns in confusion, looking down at her hand. “I’m fine,” he tells her, his voice suddenly gritty as he grasps her hand and pulls it away from his roughened skin.

 

It’s true, in the fact that he’s not bleeding out right in front of her. But she knows he’s wrong, too. He’s not healed, not really. And, even though he says otherwise, he knows it.

 

“You’re okay, too,” Will whispers, his eyes darting all over her face before dropping to look at her neck. He shifts so the light from the living room hits her more. “But you did scratch your neck pretty badly.”

 

“He was choking me,” she whispers, her eyes glazing over as the nightmare takes hold again. “And you were there, but you couldn’t hear me. You were dying and I couldn’t get to you. I wasn’t enough. And you didn’t call for help or do anything at all. You just… You gave up.”

 

Will’s eyes drop, his breath catching as he sucks in a sharp, pained inhale. Some dreams are more on the nose than others.

 

“I’m sorry,” Amelia says in a rush, choking on a sob as her shoulders start to tremor. She brings her hands up to press against her eyes as she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, I’m just…”

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

 

“Will, you’re _wonderful_ ,” she tells him, dropping her hands to see him. When she find him staring at the bedspread, she cups his jaw, urging him to look at her. “You are. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Even with everything happening, you didn’t hesitate before insisting I stay with you. Then you rush in here, armed and ready because I dreamt about my ex-fiancé choking me-”

 

Will starts, a growl of pure anger she’s never heard before falling from his lips as he grasps her wrists, his eyes flashing.

 

“Thad never hurt me,” Amelia tells him. “But in the dream he was wearing… He had on one of Domino’s masks, and… I don’t know, I think he was supposed to be all of them. All of Domino’s boys wrapped up in one person. And then you rush in here to help me without a thought, because you’re the most amazing man.”

 

“Anyone would have, Amelia,” he replies.

 

“Maybe. But that doesn’t change that you _did_ ,” she whispers. His eyes drop again and she adds, “You gave me your bed and insisted on sleeping on that awful sofa.”

 

“I’m usually there anyway,” Will says. It’s an admission he clearly didn’t think about before saying aloud and the moment the words register, he winces. “The bed feels wrong without you in it.”

 

She bites her lip to cage in the words aching to tumble out. Maybe one day she’ll tell him that she hasn’t been able to sleep without his coat draped over her since they broke up. Before her nightmare, sleeping in his bed had given her the best rest she’d had in a week, just because it smelled like him. But right now, even that won’t be enough.

 

“Can you hold me for a bit?” Amelia asks, her fingers shifting over his face. They won’t stop shaking. Her entire body trembles with residual adrenaline and fear. “Please?”

 

A strange look crosses his face and she knows he’s going to say no. Her lips quiver as tears blur her vision and she nods quickly, letting him go. She grabs ahold of her own shoulder, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

 

“I make you feel safe?” he asks, his voice oddly quiet.

 

“Yes,” she replies, feeling as vulnerable as she can ever remember being.

 

Will’s hands move as if to touch her arm, but he changes his mind. “You’re a vigilante.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared,” Amelia says, looking at him. “I’m scared all the time. _All_ the time. God, Will, I just need… I need a few hours of peace, where I don’t feel like everything might come crumbling down around me.”

 

“I…” He furrows his brow. “I give you that?”

 

“Yes,” she whispers, her hand fluttering to his chest with the need to make him _feel_ the words. A sob wrenches its way out of her and she stares at her fingers where they hover over his chest. “You do. You always have, you… _Will_ …”

 

“Okay. Hey, you’re okay,” he says, switching his position so that he sits facing her. She doesn’t breathe until he pulls her into his arms. She collapses in his embrace, the dam inside her cracking open again. But it’s for a different reason this time. This is the first time she’s felt warm in a week. The first time she’s felt like _herself_ in a week. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

 

But it costs him. She knows it does. Despite the kiss yesterday, despite all the times he’s called her _‘honey’_ since bringing her back here, despite his obvious concern for her, he’s kept his distance since leaving her apartment. He might still love her, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind about them being together.

 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his chest. He pulls her into his lap and cradles her close. “I’m sorry I’m so needy. I’m sorry I’m so weak.”

 

“You’re talking nonsense, Amelia,” he whispers into her hair. She likes to think he kisses the crown of her head, but she might just be imagining it. That realization makes her cry more. “You’re not needy and you’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

The way he says it, she wants to believe him. And part of her does, but another part thinks maybe he just sees her the way he’s always imagined her.

 

“Only with you,” she murmurs against his skin, burying her nose in the hollow of his throat.

 

He’s quiet for a long moment, not acknowledging her words, but he doesn’t deny them either. 

 

“Come here,” he finally says, shifting her partially back on the bed. Amelia immediately clings to him, positive he’s going to deposit her back against the mattress and leave. But he doesn’t. He reclines back instead, pulling the blanket over both of them. With a needy whimper, Amelia follows, curling up half on top of him as he wraps his arms around her with a soft, “Get some sleep.”

 

“Don’t leave me?” she asks, not daring to look up at him as she says it.

 

When he kisses the top of her head this time, she knows it’s real and it has more tears burning her eyes. “I’ll stay right here all night,” Will vows. It’s not as big a promise as she wants, but it’s more than she thought she’d get. So, she takes it. “You’re safe. Get some sleep, love. I’ve got you.”

 

The shudder that races down her spine is the furthest thing from fear this time. Part of her would like to stay awake, to savor this moment of soft, quiet affection as long as possible. But he’s warm and comfortable. And, the way his hand feels when it slips to stroke up and down her spine is both familiar and soothing through the shirt she stole from him. She curls up closer, yawning wide enough her jaw cracks. Her eyes grow heavy in a matter of heartbeats. And, sooner than she’d like, she loses the battle to stay conscious.

 

When she wakes several hours later, it’s with the same reluctance as when she fell asleep.

 

True to his word, Will has gone nowhere. His hand still drifts up and down her back, as if he’s spent the entire night doing nothing else.

 

She wants to pretend this is something she gets to keep. The rightness of being in his arms settles her soul and serves as a balm to her nerves. Despite the horrors of the night before, both back at her apartment and as she dreamt in his bed, she feels rested and calm.

 

It ends the moment he knows she’s awake, just like she knew it would.

 

His fingers pause midway up her spine. That doesn’t stop her from nuzzling against his chest for a second, breathing him in and savoring his warmth. It’s not enough, it will never be enough, and she has to be okay with that. He gave her exactly what she asked for - a night of peace and comfort. It feels selfish to drag it out for more than these few precious heartbeats.

 

“Hi,” she whispers, watching her fingers brush his collarbone instead of looking up at him.

 

“Morning,” he greets in a thick voice raw with exhaustion.

 

Amelia cranes her neck up to meet his eye. Viciously dark circles greet her.

 

“Did you not sleep?” she asks, her heart sinking. That he might not have slept didn’t even occur to her. They’ve spent the night together a hundred times. Nightmares aside, he’s never had trouble sleeping with her there before. If that’s changed, if he’s so ill at ease with her that he can’t relax enough to rest… 

 

Her stomach drops at the diminishing possibility of them working this out.

 

“I did on the sofa earlier,” he replies, his hand falling from her back as he scoots up the bed a little bit, forcing her to move. She mourns the loss of his skin against hers, but she’s also freshly anxious to try and interpret his demeanor this morning. “I’m glad you slept, though.”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says distantly. She tries to catch his eye, but he won’t hold her gaze. “Thank you. For staying. I needed that.”

 

His answer is a nod as he pushes off the bed. “You can go ahead and get ready for the day. I’ll get started on the coffee.”

 

“Will,” she protests, grabbing for his fingers before he gets too far. She snags one of them and he looks down at their hands before finally meeting her eye. “Are we okay?”

 

His cheek twitches as he tries to smile. “You’re fine, Amelia. Don’t worry about it.”

 

 _You’re_ fine. Not _we’re_ fine.

 

Will pulls his hand away. “I’ll check your arm in a bit. You have some scratches on your neck. You might want to put something on them.”

 

Amelia absently touches her throat, only realizing after she does that he used the break in conversation to escape into the living room. She stares at the empty doorway. He’s a room away, but he might as well be on the other side of the planet. The distance between them hurts more than the throbbing of her arm. She hadn’t even felt it until he mentioned the injury, not her arm or the scrapes on her neck.

 

She completely forgets how bad her bruising is until she moves to stand. A muffled cry escapes her as she steadies herself against Will’s nightstand. Through the doorway she sees him pause in the kitchen, turning his head a little, probably watching her from the corner of his eye, definitely listening for an actual problem. The lines of his muscles are tense enough she can see them from the bedside, like he’s fighting the urge to come help her unless she really needs him.

 

He’s already been her support. He stayed with her the whole night. If he needs distance now, she’s going to let him have it. Even if it leaves her feeling like knives are slicing her from the inside out.

 

Amelia steps into the bathroom, glancing at her reflection. She pauses with a startled gasp. The reason for his concern is evident. Scratches litter her neck, some deep and red, others lighter, already fading. She barely remembers doing any of it. The bruise on her cheek is purple and swollen, accenting the still-angry red around the cuts she’d gotten last night. Tugging up the hem of the large t-shirt she stole from Will, she finds her midsection covered in dark splotches. They’re not as bad, but they still hurt.

 

At least there’s nothing actively bleeding. But she bruises so easily and she took quite a beating last night.

 

This must be what a punching bag feels like. 

 

It’s going to take forever to get ready. 

 

Amelia moves as slowly as she can, inhaling sharply when the exaggerated motions remind her of her nightmare. She pushes the thought away. It was just a dream, and she’s moving like this now of her own volition, because of the fight she won last night. She’ll get through this like she gets through everything - one step at a time.

 

She brushes her teeth first, noting that Will hasn’t tossed her toothbrush or gotten rid of her hairbrush or the ponytail holders she left on his bathroom doorknob last month. Everything is pretty much the same since the night he broke up with her a week ago.

 

Except her.

 

Except _them_.

 

The makeup she left in one of the drawers is still there, but her bruises are too dark to cover up and there’s enough cuts and scratches that she’d prefer to just clean them and let them heal. It’s been a long time since she left the house without makeup. That’s part of her armor, usually, but today she just gently washes her face and neck before patting them dry. She grabs some ointment from his medicine cabinet and applies it to the worst of her wounds.

 

It’s jarring seeing the damage from her attackers and from herself.

 

What if it happens again? What if Will isn’t there next time? What if she’s alone and so confused that she _really_ hurts herself?

 

But more than that, she just doesn’t want to go through a nightmare like that again, not if there’s a way to prevent it. The fear she felt with Will bleeding out and Mayor Lance’s corpse stroking her cheek and Thad behind that mask taunting her and choking her… It’s still fresh. It’s still nearly as bad as the actual attack she’d survived mere hours before it. 

 

Amelia forces a deep breath and steels herself. She’ll deal with it, because she can. She’ll face it head-on like she’ll face the assault itself. No more running.

 

First, though, she needs to tend to her bruises.

 

Getting Will’s shirt off is a struggle. She’s stiff and it seems like a terrible idea to raise her left arm, but she manages. She tosses his shirt into his laundry bin with a sigh before freezing. The Arnica cream is in the bedroom still, sitting on Will’s dresser from the last time she’d needed it. From _before,_ when the only bruises she had to deal with were the ones from Ellie’s bō staff slapping against the back of her thighs during sparring. Will had helped her, then, gently rubbing the balm across her bruises and kissing the back of her knees as he worked.

 

This time, she’s on her own.

 

Amelia closes her eyes against a sharp stab of pain that has nothing to do with her bruising. She can do this. She _will_ do this. 

 

Sighing heavily, she turns to amble out and grab the cream. But when she opens the door, she comes face-to-face with Will carrying a cup of coffee. The surprise on his face is nothing compared to when his eyes drop instinctively to her bare chest. Before Amelia can so much as breathe, he spins around so fast that coffee sloshes over the edge of the mug.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters at the wall. “I was gonna leave your coffee on the dresser.”

 

“It’s fine,” Amelia tells him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around her breasts. She feels oddly exposed, which is dumb. They’ve seen each other naked more times than she can count, explored every inch of each other’s bodies. But his gaze is fixed on the wall like his life depends on it, with a wild blush covering his cheeks as if he’s never seen her before.

 

That hurts more than she can comprehend.

 

“I was just, uh… I was going to grab the Arnica cream,” she mumbles. He looks at the jar on his dresser and gives a slow nod. “Thank you for the coffee.”

 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You’re… You’re okay with the cream, right? That’s a good idea, you should use it. But your arm-”

 

“I’ll manage.”

 

Will gives a strained exhale. “I could call Jules.”

 

Amelia stares at his back for a beat before pinching her eyes shut.

 

_I’ll get you help. But it can’t be me._

 

The urge to throw up hits her hard and fast, but she swallows it back. 

 

It’s probably stupid to reach out abruptly for any reason, much less to grab the Arnica cream off his dresser with one hand and the steaming cup of coffee from his fingers with the other. But she does it, not even bothering to hide her sharp inhale as she moves. It hurts, but then again everything hurts, so there’s no use in pretending otherwise.

 

“No, thank you,” Amelia says. It comes out harsher than she means it to, and he flinches. But he doesn’t say anything. That pisses her off and for a second she thinks about throwing something at him. She wants to scream and rage, to yell at him that she loves him and that being apart is hurting both of them, just _rail_ at him until he believes her. But she doesn’t, because she knows it won’t work. Nothing will work, not anymore. Amelia grits her teeth and heads back into the bathroom with a harsh, “I’ll be _fine,”_ before slamming the door shut with her foot.

 

An hour ago she’d been sleeping peacefully, sprawled across his chest. Two weeks ago, she’d thought maybe every morning could start that way for the rest of her life.

 

Now, she feels like an idiot.

 

Amelia sets the jar and coffee down with heavy thuds as her eyes fill with tears. Had he already been planning on breaking up with her while she daydreamed about their future together? Had he made love to her knowing it would be the last time? Had he kissed her goodbye and held the memory closer, fully aware they’d never have another kiss?

 

 _No._ No, there _had_ been another. Fueled by anger and desperation, yes, but he’d still kissed her again. And all of the heat and passion that lives between them had still been there, like always, coursing through them both. She _knows_ it’d been there.

 

He still loves her. She’s sure of it. She’s also just not enough for him.

 

 _Maybe she never was_.

 

The thought rises unbidden and Amelia pinches her lips together. Maybe a girl so scared of her own happiness that she turned him down year after year in favor of something hollow was never going to be enough for him. Maybe the way he makes her feel about herself isn’t earned. Maybe she’s really just the same weak, easily manipulated girl she’s always been.

 

But, _oh,_ she loves who she is when she’s with him. Amelia covers her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. He _changed_ her, not just by being with him, but he changed how she views _herself._ How she views the world and her place in it. She loves the way he sees her, the way he always has, like she’s strong and beautiful and the only one worth looking at when she walks into the room. It’s addictive, the way he makes her feel like he sees parts of herself she didn’t know were there.

 

Maybe they’re not, though. Maybe it was all an illusion he’s finally rid himself of.

 

Maybe it really is over.

 

It’s hard, but Amelia gives herself to the count of ten to wallow in the misery that fills all the empty spaces Will’s love for her used to occupy. She breathes it in, lets it settle over her until there’s nothing else left… But when she hits ten, she straightens her spine. She meets her own gaze in the mirror. She unscrews the top of the Arnica cream and gets to work.

 

Falling apart will happen later. Repeatedly, probably. There’s no helping that. But not _now._ Not this moment. Right now, she has things to do.

 

One step at a time.

 

It takes a bit, but she follows through, only leaving the bathroom once she’s tended to her wounds the best she can. She dresses in a spare outfit she keeps in his drawers. And when she walks out of his bedroom, it’s with her coffee in hand and her head held high, hoping she projects a confidence she doesn’t feel.

 

Will waits for her in the living room, turning from the window at the sound of her footsteps.

 

“Thank you again,” she tells him. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

 

“It’s okay,” he replies. He’d changed clothes at some point while she was getting ready. The shirt he’s wearing is the same exact shirt as in her nightmare. Her eyes almost drop to his scar. She doesn’t move, forcing herself to keep her gaze up even as half of her expects blood to start seeping out and stain the fabric. “You got it all taken care of? All the bruises?”

 

“Yeah. And I changed the bandage on my arm. It’s fine.”

 

“Oh,” he says, holding himself stiffly as he nods. “Okay then.”

 

“Okay,” she echoes.

 

They both stand there, staring at each other. A million and one things go unsaid, but neither of them move to voice them. It’s the most awkward silence she’s ever suffered through.

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” she says, just to say something. She makes her way to the kitchen and pours her cup down the drain. She watches the perfectly-made coffee disappear, feeling like she herself is being sucked down with it. He doesn’t say anything as she takes the time to clean the mug out, dry it and put it away. There’s _still_ nothing said as she dries her hands. Amelia sighs. “And thanks, again, for taking care of me last night.”

 

“Thanks for letting me,” Will answers. “I’m…” She looks at him when he stops himself and she bites the inside of her lip as he sighs, rubbing at his beard. “I... If you... If you needed someone, in spite of everything, I’m glad you let me help.”

 

_You’re the only one I want to help me, you idiot._

 

She wants to yell at him, but instead Amelia shakes her head. “Yeah, well, I guess now you know what it feels like.”

 

He frowns. “No, it’s not… That’s not the same thing, Amelia.”

 

“Oh, okay.” She lets out a humorless laugh as she looks up at the ceiling. “Life or death trauma followed by vivid nightmares that take you out of reality and leave you a complete wreck. _Sure_. You and I have _nothing_ in common there. Except, of course, that you really, really almost died and you spent months recovering and you see more death and suffering on a weekly basis than most people do in their whole lives. So, I mean, I guess on that front you’re very right, because you have every reason to have nightmares, Will. You have every reason to need support. I’m just a stubborn, foolish girl who keeps throwing herself into situations that nearly get her killed, right?”

 

Will clenches his jaw. “You’re not foolish.”

 

“No?” she asks. “That’s funny, because I feel like it. I feel like…” Amelia shakes her head before giving him an ugly caricature of a smile. “You know what? I can’t do this right now. Thank you for the coffee and the… arms. I need to go to work.”

 

“Hell no,” Will snaps, his voice so harsh that she jumps, staring at him with wide eyes. He ignores her reaction, though, crossing the room in the blink of an eye to put himself between her and the front door. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself. Did you think I was kidding about asking John and Lyla to put a bodyguard on you?”

 

Amelia blinks. “Yes?”

 

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replies. “Digg’s on his way over right now. He’ll stick with you wherever you need to go until you get back here.”

 

“You must be kidding.”

 

“Not even a little,” Will tells her. He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know what it felt like hearing you fighting over the comms? Or when you screamed last night? I thought someone got into my home. I thought you were being attacked all over again.”

 

“How nice that you still care,” she says, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

 

“I never said I didn’t care,” he reminds her. “I just said this wouldn’t work.”

 

“No,” Amelia corrects, her voice breaking on that single syllable as she points at him. “You said I’d _leave_. You said I was only with you because I love Beth. _You_ said we weren’t worth it. That I was with you because it was easy. That’s what _you_ said, what _you_ decided. Don’t you dare lie to yourself about that, because you were wrong about _all_ of it, Will. I’m _right fucking here_. Part of the reason I love Beth so much is because I love you. We’ve _always_ been worth it. And, honey, if you think any of this is easy, then you and I have very different definitions of the word.”

 

Will starts, his mouth opening as if to respond before it snaps shut. His nostrils flare, his eyes flash, but that’s the only response she gets.

 

“You’re right,” he finally says. For a horrible second, a ray of hope fills her, but it comes crashing down just as quickly. “This isn’t the time for this.”

 

“Great,” she replies with a sarcastic wave of her hands. “You just let me know when’s good for you, then, because the ball’s obviously in your court.”

 

“Amelia…”

 

“Just stop!” she snaps. “God. Do you think you’re the only one fighting to be okay? Newsflash, Will, you’re not. The difference is for some reason you think you need to do it alone. And you know what? I refuse to do the same.”

 

She’s not even done saying the words when she pulls her phone out of her pocket.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Helping myself,” Amelia answers, punching a number and putting the phone to her ear. It only takes two rings before the other end picks up. “Hey, Mags. Can you do me a favor and text me the contact info for Deedee’s therapist? I’d like to ask for a recommendation after all.”

 

“I don’t need a goddamn therapist,” Will mutters angrily.

 

Amelia’s eyes widen incredulously. How is he not getting this? She yanks the phone away from her ear to hiss, “It’s for _me_ , Will. You can suffer in silence alone if you want, but I’m not going to.”

 

From the look on his face, that’s the last thing he expected to hear. All of the fight drains out of him as he blinks at her.

 

Amelia puts her phone back up to her ear just as Maggie tells her that she’ll text the doctor’s name and number.

 

“Thank you, Maggie,” Amelia replies. “Love you to bits. I’ll call you later today, okay? Give my best to Deedee and tell that bun in your oven that he needs to wait to make his debut until at least his due date, okay? Three more weeks won’t kill you, Mags. Bye, sweetie.”

 

She ignores Will as she hangs up, instead switching to her text messages to wait for the contact information. It doesn’t take long. Her screen lights with the phone number, immediately followed by a silly shot of Deedee kissing Maggie’s belly, an impish look shining on the little girl’s face. Despite everything else, it brings the barest hint of lightness back to Amelia’s morning. It reminds her that there are still people who want to be part of her life, who love her and care about her, people she needs to be well for.

 

“You’re really going to sit down and talk to a therapist?” Will asks. She glances up to find him casting her a wary look. “How could talking about it possibly help?”

 

“Well, it’s pretty clear to me that locking it all away doesn’t do any good,” Amelia tells him, not pulling any punches. He winces as if she’d thrown them physically. “I don’t want to wind up with scars on my neck because of night terrors, Will. And I don’t want to shut out the people I love from my life. I want them to be a part of it, as much as I want to be part of theirs. So, if that means trying to talk to someone, then I’m going to give it a shot. And if I were you, I’d think about doing the same.”

 

He opens his mouth to reply, but the doorbell ringing interrupts him. He grits his teeth for a quick second before moving to check the peephole.

 

“Saved by the bell,” she murmurs, and he casts a dark look back at her. As much as she feels like maybe they were finally getting somewhere with this conversation, another part of her knows that they both need to step back and breathe for a bit.

 

“It’s Digg,” Will tells her before opening the door. “Hey, Digg. Thank you for coming.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Diggle replies as he steps in. He winces when he sees Amelia. “Ouch.” 

 

“I’d say it looks worse than it feels, but I’m a bad liar,” Amelia says with an attempt at a smile. “Really, Digg, I’m not sure this is needed, but I do appreciate you giving up your day.”

 

“My day?” he asks with an amused arch of his eyebrow. He glances at Will.

 

“Digg, Lyla, and a few of the guys who work for their security agency agreed to trade off keeping an eye on you until the trial is over,” Will tells her.

 

Amelia’s jaw slackens. “It doesn’t start for weeks!”

 

“I know,” Will replies stubbornly.

 

She changes tactics. “John…”

 

“It’s a nice change of pace from guarding Will’s old man,” Diggle replies with a wink.

 

“You just like calling him an old man,” Will says.

 

“It has its appeal,” Digg says with a toothy grin. “Really, though. You’ve proven yourself, Amelia. No one’s questioning your abilities. You took on three men last night and lived to tell the tale with barely a scratch and some bruises-”

 

Will mutters under his breath about how many stitches her so-called _scratch_ needed.

 

“But we all know Domino has more than a hundred goons working for him,” Digg points out, raising his eyebrows at her. “We like you, Amelia. We intend to keep you around and not just because _this one_ gets grouchy when you’re gone. Let us be another pair of eyes and help keep you breathing. If it helps, I’m told I make a great conversationalist, too.”

 

“Alright,” Amelia agrees after a moment of hesitation. “Thank you. I, uh, I don’t know what your agency charges, though.”

 

Diggle scoffs. “Your money’s no good, Prescott. We’ve got a masks-and-family discount.”

 

Well, that’s not true, considering Oliver is their primary client. He’s used them in an official capacity as a legislator for as long as she can remember.

 

“Right,” Amelia replies dryly, picking up her purse and stepping out into the hallway. “I’ll ask Lyla.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” he says, pointing a finger at her before looking at Will. “We’ll see you later.”

 

Her eyes find Will’s. “Bye,” she says, staring at him until he looks away.

 

“Stay safe,” Will replies before handing Diggle a key to his place. Digg hands it directly to Amelia. She clenches it in her fist as Will blinks at her hand before she turns away. Will shuts the door behind them with a resounding thud.

 

A grumble of frustration bursts past her lips as she works Will’s key onto her keychain for the first time. It hurts. This is not the way she should’ve been given a key to his home.

 

“Digg?” she asks, pocketing her keychain and falling into step with him as they make their way down the hall. “Have you ever met someone so goddamn stubborn that they get in the way of their own best interests?

 

Diggle just laughs. He claps her gently on the shoulder, keenly aware of her bruises.

 

“Amelia, let me tell you a story about how I met his father…”

 

It’s a story she knows, for the most part. Team Arrow has a lot of history, much of which people on the outside simply aren’t aware of. The first few weeks after she’d shown up at the lair, she’d done her best to absorb the team’s dynamics and origins. Some of it strains the boundaries of believability, even if the proof is all around her. But the stories themselves are absorbing. Doubly so when it’s John telling them.

 

It also makes for an excellent distraction as he drives her to work.

 

“He did what?” Amelia interrupts a few minutes later as he recounts the early years. She laughs. “Out of a moving car?”

 

“Absolutely,” Digg replies, shaking his head at the memory with the hint of a smile on his lips. “He’s lucky his ass didn’t roll into traffic.”

 

“What an inglorious end that would’ve been after surviving all those years on an island in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Diggle chuckles. “Yeah, well, that’s how I knew he needed me. And it’s why I’m still here.”

 

“Because of Oliver?”

 

“Because I found purpose,” he tells her. “Because I found family. Oliver’s my brother. Always has been. The mission’s gotten harder. You get older and it wears on you more. A lot more. But Lyla and I talked about it years ago. We’ll keep doing this as long as he needs us. You, though… I think you might be a different story.”

 

She sits up a bit straighter at that.

 

“You aren’t here to save the city, Amelia,” Diggle says. “You’re here to save yourself. That’s every bit as noble.”

 

“I want Domino taken down,” Amelia reminds him.

 

“So do I,” he replies. “But I’ll want the next one after that taken down, too. And the one after that. This team’s my life. Mine and Lyla’s. And now Sara’s, too. It’s part of how we find meaning. But that’s us. What I wanna know is, when you think about taking down Domino, what kind of life do you dream about coming after?”

 

Amelia pauses, turning to stare at the road as she considers the question. “I don’t know.”

 

Digg smiles at her much the way her father used to, soft and knowing, and Amelia’s chest hurts for a moment at the similarity. But it’s apt and it also makes her pay more attention.

 

“Sure you do,” Diggle says. “We just left him back there at his condo. Right?”

 

Her heart jumps. She wipes at her lips before biting her thumbnail as she turns to look out her window. “Yeah.”

 

He hums in understanding before silence fills the car. There’s nothing but the quiet white noise of the engine for a moment, but the near-silence isn’t as uncomfortable as Amelia might have thought it would be.

 

“Mask or no mask,” Diggle adds after a moment. “That’s not gonna be easy. Never is for soldiers. That’s why Lyla and I got divorced the first time.”

 

“ _What_?” Amelia asks, her eyes snapping back to Digg. 

 

“Didn’t know that, huh?” he asks with a rueful smile. “Yeah. Long time ago. Before we met Oliver. We were both soldiers. Met and married overseas. We did okay with war. It was learning to leave it behind that broke us the first time around.”

 

“And how’d you do that?” she asks. “How did you leave it behind?”

 

“Time,” he answers. “Talking. _Listening_. In the end, it probably helped that we had this, too. We’re both the kind of people who need a mission, a purpose. We don’t do well directionless. Or, we didn’t when we were younger. I’m not convinced you and Will are the same.”

 

Amelia sighs. “Me either.”

 

“He’s never been big on vigilantism,” Diggle reminds her as he pulls into her office parking lot. “He keeps winding up dragged back into it because he _is_ big on family.”

 

“And because of me,” Amelia adds. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

 

“I’m saying that boy could use an anchor that isn’t inside that bunker,” Digg replies. He parks the car and gives her his full attention. “Hard to figure out how to leave the war behind if you never finish the battle.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees softly.

 

“That’s my two cents, anyhow,” Diggle says. The air shifts at his words, like he’s declaring the subject done for the moment. “For now, let’s focus on keeping you alive while you go through your work day.”

 

“Never a dull moment. Unless you find zoning regulations boring.”

 

“I do not hope for an attack,” Digg tells her plainly before winking. “But I might hope for a scare or two just to keep me awake.”

 

“Hilarious.”

 

“Stay put,” Diggle says, unbuckling. “I’m gonna survey the immediate area and then I’ll get your door. Thanks for sitting up front, by the way. I’ve been doing this too damn long to be demoted back to the black driver again.”

 

“What?” Amelia asks, but Digg’s already out the door. He doesn’t take long to scan the area, but she has the definite sense he’s being thorough. She takes a moment to check her messages as he works. 

 

An email from her boss waits for her.

 

“All clear,” Digg says, pulling her door open. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says, stepping out. She skims the rooflines as she pockets her phone, even though Diggle just did. It’s just habit now, more than anything. “We need to head to my boss’ office first. She messaged me to come by as soon as I got here.”

 

“Lead the way.”

 

She doesn’t miss the way he skims the parking lot once again. His being there is overkill, in Amelia’s opinion. Lying in wait at her apartment is one thing. Taking a shot at her in broad daylight is something else entirely. But, she does have to admit that having John Diggle - Spartan himself, with his 30-plus years of vigilante and military experience - watching her back does let her breathe a bit easier.

 

The walk to her boss’ office is uneventful, even if it feels like everyone in the building stops to stare as they pass. She’d probably stare too, if she were them. Her face is a mess of bruises and there’s no disguising the very obvious bodyguard in tow.

 

But things change a bit when she reaches Keeley’s office.

 

The stout, generally-pleasant woman glances up and flinches.

 

“Jesus, they did a number on you, didn’t they?”

 

“It might be trite, but you should see the other guys.”

 

Amelia’s attempt at glib falls flat on its face.

 

Keeley’s eyes switch to Diggle. “Bodyguard, I presume?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

 

Digg’s a solid foot taller than Keeley, but she still manages to make it seem like she’s the one examining him under a microscope. It’s just her way. She’s like that with everyone when she first meets them. And, like with Amelia, the moment she decides she likes him clicks all at once, and she breaks into a smile.

 

It doesn’t escape Amelia’s attention that it’s strained.

 

“This is a private matter,” Keeley tells Amelia. “You might want to have your guard wait in the hall. Nothing personal.”

 

“Not at all,” Diggle replies. “But I am a whole lot more comfortable at Miss Prescott’s side, if it’s all the same to her.”

 

Amelia looks back at him and mouths, _“Miss Prescott?”_ to which he offers a cheeky smile.

 

“He can stay,” Amelia says, turning back to Keeley. “I know John well. What’s this about?”

 

This time it’s not a flinch Keeley greets her with, but a whole body cringe. Her boss sighs and makes her way around her desk. She doesn’t say anything as she shuts her office door before leaning back against it with a heavy look.

 

“Amelia…” The other woman sighs. “They won this round.”

 

“What?”

 

“Someone who knows someone talked to someone way above me,” Keeley says. “They’re scrapping the plans for the hospital.”

 

“ _What?_ No, they can’t do that!” Amelia blurts. “The city _needs_ that hospital. It’s all I’ve worked on for nearly a year!”

 

“I know,” Keeley replies. “Believe me, I do. But this is completely out of my hands.”

 

“Well, we’ll fight them,” Amelia insists, nodding rapidly as she tries to form a plan. “I’ll… I’ll make a presentation. We can sit down and-”

 

“Amelia,” Keeley interrupts as she steps closer. “We’re way past that. You know how this works. That’s why I hired you. And, for what it’s worth, I’m damn glad I did, in spite of how this turned out.”

 

Something in her tone sparks a sense of realization. Amelia’s jaw drops and she falls back a step.

 

“You’re firing me,” Amelia breathes out. “They aren’t just axing the project. They’re axing me.”

 

To her credit, Keeley seems both deeply uncomfortable and hugely frustrated. “I did everything I could. They decided to eliminate your position.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I know.”

 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Amelia snaps. “Are you kidding me? Keeley…”

 

“Listen, I _know_ ,” the smaller woman says, closing the distance between them to grab Amelia’s hands. “I bought you a little bit of time. I told them you’d already put in for a leave of absence and vacation time through the end of next month because of the upcoming trial. I figured at least you could keep your health insurance a little longer while you try to work things out. And I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation. You know that. You got a raw deal and I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

 

Amelia can’t do anything but shake her head.

 

It’s not like when she got fired from the mayor’s office in Central City, but it’s also no better. Back then, she’d blamed Thad. And maybe it was his fault, at least in part. He’d surely made a big deal out of protecting her from people she’d pissed off professionally over the years. But, like then, this comes down to politics. And no matter how she looks at it, she lost.

 

 _Again_.

 

“If things change, I’ll hire you back in a heartbeat,” Keeley tells her.

 

A strange sense of calm settles over Amelia at the words.

 

“Things don’t change unless we make them,” she replies distantly before looking down to meet her now-former boss’ eye. “Thank you, Keeley. For everything you did and everything you tried to do. I very much look forward to working with you again in the future.”

 

“Whenever a project comes along,” Keeley promises her.

 

“Oh no,” Amelia counters. “We have our project. We’re building that hospital. I just have to help bring down Domino first.”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you have that giant man next to you, then.”

 

“It is,” Amelia agrees, turning to meet Digg’s eye. “Him and his security team. They’re good at what they do. And so are you and I, Keeley. We’ll win this in the end.”

 

“Can’t say that I’m sure you’re right,” Keeley says. “But I certainly do love your optimism. Take care of yourself, Amelia. I’ll put out some feelers with old colleagues for you and let you know if anyone has a lead on a job. You know… until you bring down Domino. Call me if you need anything.”

 

“Thank you,” Amelia says, shaking Keeley’s hand firmly. “I will.”

 

She leaves the office, Diggle right behind her. The minute Keeley’s door shuts, Amelia stops in the middle of the hallway. She takes a slow breath, closing her eyes as she lets it out. Her head spins, her thoughts going a million miles a minute. She presses her hand to her abdomen to feel as she takes a full breath, letting the sensation ground her.

 

“You okay?” Digg asks.

 

“I’m fine,” she promises. And, in truth, she is. “You asked what I pictured after beating Domino.”

 

He blinks at the unexpected shift in conversation.

 

“That hospital being built. That’s what I picture,” Amelia tells him. “Winning doesn’t just mean putting Domino behind bars, it means beating what he’s trying to _do._ That’s what I want.”

 

“Tall order,” Digg says with an approving nod. “But a good one. And you’ve got plenty of people willing to help you make it happen.”

 

“I do,” she agrees before pausing. “Can you do me a favor and keep this to yourself? The last thing I need is Will somehow blaming himself for me losing my job.”

 

“Did you miss the part where I said Lyla and I only worked the second go-around because of communication?”

 

Amelia rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell him myself. Just not yet. I need to get back on my feet before he finds out I had them pulled out from under me.”

 

“Alright,” Diggle says, though he doesn’t look all that happy about it. “But for the record, sometimes it’s easier to find your feet if you let someone help pull you back up.”

 

“You’re just full of wisdom, aren’t you, John?”

 

He grins and winks. “It comes with the gray hairs.”

  
  
   


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for alcohol abuse.
> 
> After a week-long typing break, my wrists are better, but still not quite right. Replies to comments and asks will keep being shorter than they have been before. Sorry about that, but I really have to heal up my wrists for writing. SIGH.

Will doesn’t so much sleep after Amelia leaves as he does collapse. The strain of the night before and sheer exhaustion catch up to him all at once. He lies down on the sofa and shuts his eyes for a second.

 

Before he knows it, three hours have passed.

 

When he stirs, awareness hits him with the force of a goddamn train. His eyes snap open on a burst of panic and he shoots up, grappling for his phone. Amelia left hours ago. There are men after her with the intent to kill her. And he _slept._ Guilt sours his stomach as he imagines all the things that might’ve happened to her as he slumbered.

 

There are only two texts waiting for him, though.

 

He skims them, letting out a shaky breath when he registers Amelia sent a text just a few moments ago.

 

_AP: Need anything from the store? John and I are going to run by in a bit, before I head back to your place. Should be there around four._

 

Two weeks ago he would have smiled at the simple question, at the easy domesticity. Now, he stares at the words until they blur before shaking his head at himself. He replies with a handful of suggestions followed with a quick thanks. He pauses again before adding more.

 

_WQ: hope ur having a good day_

 

He sends it before he can second guess himself. They’re on strange terms, and he’s not sure what he’s allowed to say to her at this point and what he’s not. He wants the very best for her, but that means letting her go because he is _not_ the best. But he loves her. Desperately, entirely, with every bit of who he is. And letting go when she’s right in front of him, holding onto him and promising him that he’s wrong, that he’s precisely who she wants… That’s a whole lot easier said than done.

 

Texting those simple words shouldn’t be the kind of thing that makes him second guess himself. Hell, he’d say that to a barista at the coffee shop. He has no idea where their balance lies, but surely that much is okay.

 

Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair and goes to his next message. Judging by the time it was sent, it probably was what woke him up.

 

_JQ: Alex and I are coming over with lunch, so put on pants._

 

Will pulls a face and nearly replies with something snippy, but he stops himself. He’s not pantsless, but he isn’t exactly put together either. At a minimum, he should get up and brush his teeth.

 

_WQ: give me 20 min._

 

_JQ: Why? You gotta do laundry first? Do we need to buy you new pants?!?_

 

_WQ: ur so funny. except for when ur not_

 

_JQ: I’m hilarious. Your sense of humor is just impaired. You want Indian or Thai?_

 

He scrubs his face, trying to make his brain work. He just woke up and, honestly, neither option sounds great.

 

_WQ: or pizza?_

 

_JQ: Okay, but I’m getting the real stuff from the Italian district, not the junk that gets delivered in twenty minutes or less._

 

_WQ: and u teased me for asking for 20 min._

 

_JQ: Now who thinks they’re funny? Be there soon._

 

_WQ: i’ll start looking 4 pants_

 

_JQ: Ugh. PLEASE._

 

Will rolls his eyes as his lips pull up in a small smile. Tossing his phone aside, he stands and attempts to stretch his neck. It’s stiff and sore. He’s really too damn tall to sleep on this stupid sofa. It doesn’t fit his frame, wouldn’t even if it was still in good shape, but he keeps going back to it anyway.

 

It’s fine, though. He’s got a while to right himself before Jules and Alex show up. If they’re headed all the way to the Italian district, he’s got time for a shower. He ambles to the bathroom, unable to help the way his eyes linger on his freshly-made bed. That was Amelia’s doing. He never bothers. Signs of her are everywhere in his bathroom, too. The Arnica cream is still on the counter, as is her hairbrush. And the space just _feels_ like her.

 

He likes it so much better this way.

 

Will manages to avoid his own reflection until after a scalding shower that leaves him feeling a little more human. But when he wipes the fog from his mirror and actually catches a glimpse of himself, his heart sinks at the sight. He just looks hollow. Tired beyond measure and sad beyond the telling of it. No wonder everyone’s worried about him. How Amelia can still stare at him like she sees something worth looking at is beyond him.

 

In some ways, his growing beard feels like a mask, a way to hide in plain sight and mute his expressions. It’s armor and he’s come to appreciate it. But it _is_ looking a little scraggly. And, if he’s going to have Amelia here for the week, the least he can do is clean it up a little. 

 

He trims lightly, just evening it out, giving it more shape so he doesn’t look so much like a vagabond. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it’ll distract from how bruised and empty his eyes look.

 

Or maybe coffee will help. It can’t hurt.

 

He finishes getting ready first, not needing to hear Jules’ comments about his lack of pants if they show up early. But, as soon as he’s done, he brews a pot of coffee.

 

Without even thinking about it, he pours two mugs. One black, one with a splash of milk and a dash of cinnamon. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s doing and when he does he just stops and stares at the first mug, like he might find answers in its darkened depths. When did she get so ingrained in his life that it became second nature to incorporate her at every step? Why is it so hard to stop doing that? What would it be like if he didn’t _have_ to?

 

He does nothing with the mug. He just leaves it on the counter like she might grab it with quiet appreciation and a slide of her hand across his back at any moment. If he closes his eyes and lets the smell of coffee wash over him, he can almost feel her.

 

 _“Thank you,”_ she’d murmur before taking a sip and sighing. She’d follow it up by lacing the fingers of her free hand with his and leaving a lingering kiss on his cheek. It’s happened dozens of times. So much so that it’s routine now.

 

It’s funny how sometimes the quiet, mundane bits of life that get taken for granted become the best part of his day. 

 

His doorbell rings. Will blinks away the ghosts of moments past to center himself in the here and now before heading to let Jules and Alex into the room.

 

“I got Canadian bacon, double mushrooms and hot peppers,” Jules says in place of a greeting as she breezes in. “If you don’t want any of that, you can pick them off and have your boring old cheese pizza, but I call dibs on your mushrooms.”

 

“Hello to you, too, Jules. Do come in. It’s nice to see you. Make yourself at home,” Will deadpans as she hops up on a barstool and sets out the pizza.

 

“Yeah, hi,” she says absently, flipping the box open and grabbing a paper towel in place of a plate. She takes a slice and it’s barely out of the box before she’s biting into it.

 

Alex gives a shrug and a clap of Will’s shoulder in greeting as he enters.

 

“Oh, did you pour me coffee?” Jules asks, reaching for the untouched mug. “Thanks!”

 

“No, that’s for…” Will starts in a rush before cutting himself off. Both Jules and Alex stare at him, and he can feel himself retreating right before their eyes. “It’s for Alex,” he lies. “I have some raw sugar for yours. That one’s just black.”

 

Jules pulls a face like she doesn’t believe him, but it’s not as if she really has the grounds to counter him either. She also doesn’t let go of the mug. “He and I can share. I don’t need sugar when I’m having it with pizza.”

 

She takes a long, slow sip from Amelia’s favorite mug before he can say anything. Will has to bite his tongue to keep from protesting. He’s vividly aware that her eyes stay fixed on him, undoubtedly seeing more than he’s comfortable with. She’s become so much more aware lately, so much more honed in on soaking in the details of others. Part of that is vigilante training, but part of it is also age. She’s settled into her skin as an adult, and while that’s a beautiful thing to see, it’s also a little unsettling when she focuses her newly honed attention on him.

 

Especially when there’s so much he’d rather she didn’t notice.

 

“I ain’t drinkin’ coffee with pizza,” Alex snorts, heading straight for Will’s fridge. “Coffee don’t go with everything, chica.”

 

“Experience begs to differ,” she hums, blinking sweetly at her fiancé before taking another bite and following it with a deep swig of coffee.

 

“There’s Coke in the back,” Will tells Alex. “And, Jules, don’t you know where the plates are by now? I’ve only lived here a decade.”

 

“I don’t intend to put it down,” Jules informs him, covering her lips with her hand to mask that she still has a mouthful of food.

 

Alex sets out three plates anyway, shoving one of them directly beneath the slice in Jules’ hand. “We’re guests, cariño.”

 

“Eh, sorta,” she agrees with a shrug before happily taking another bite. She’s down to the crust before looking around. “Amelia not here?”

 

Will levels her with a nonplussed look. He’s surprised it took her this long. “She’s at work,” he replies. “Digg’s with her.”

 

“I’m surprised you let her out of your sight,” Jules muses, watching him with those piercing icy-blue eyes of hers as she takes a big bite out of her crust. Alex does the opposite, pretending not to pay attention as he cracks open his can.

 

“I trust John and so does she,” Will replies, grabbing a slice of pizza and getting to work picking off the mushrooms and hot peppers, piling them up on Jules’ plate. It delights her enough that it almost seems as if she’s distracted for a minute, and he lets himself take a relieved breath.

 

He should know better.

 

“Dad was pretty clear about how bad it was,” she says before looking back up at him. She pops a mushroom in her mouth. “You can’t tell me you haven’t been sitting here imagining it was even worse. I _know_ you.”

 

“I slept, actually,” he corrects her. 

 

“Really?” Jules asks, quirking her head to the side. He gives her a sharp nod, wondering what he gave away. “So you didn’t sleep last night. Is that because of her or because of you?”

 

“Julianna,” Alex says in a quiet voice of warning even as irritation slices through Will at his sister’s poking.

 

“You really wanna know what exactly goes on in my bed?” Will demands. “‘Cause I don’t think you do.”

 

“Oh, _ew_ ,” she says, making a gagging motion and squeezing her eyes shut. “That’s foul play. And it’s also total bullshit. No one’s having sex after a beating like that. Believe me, I know.”

 

Will pulls back with a wince. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

 

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” Jules says.

 

“Well, I really wish you wouldn’t,” Will retorts.

 

“Too bad,” she insists, leaning her elbow against the countertop as she looks at him. “You’re obviously exhausted, but you do actually look better than you have in the last week. Your ex-girlfriend, who you’re definitely still in love with and have been since, like, the Bronze Age nearly got murdered last night and now she’s semi-living with you because her place is a crime scene. And while I do like her more than I expected to and I really hope we keep her safe, my concern - as always - is for _you._ So, cut the crap and open a little, would you?”

 

Will presses his lips into a thin line, dropping his gaze to his brutalized pizza. A pained exhale gets stuck in his throat as some of his barriers unwittingly chip away at his sister’s words. This is Jules, the person he’s always been closest to in the world, and she gets through to him like few people can.

 

Rubbing his nose, Will gives a quick glance to Alex who offers up a sympathetic smile.

 

 _It’s Julianna_ , his eyes seem to say. _What’d ya expect?_

 

“It was a rough night,” he admits, looking back at Jules. “She had a nightmare and it scared the hell out of her. So I sat up with her. That’s all.”

 

“You sat there and watched her sleep,” Jules realizes, pausing to chew on her lip. “Gotta say, that’s more than any of my ex-boyfriends would do for me. I can promise you that.”

 

Alex gives a grumble of distaste. “They ain’t never gonna have the chance.”

 

Jules winks at him and blows him a kiss.

 

Sometimes Will thinks his best friend and sister are incredibly sweet and oddly well-matched. Other times, it’s kind of sickening. Like right now, as Alex pauses with a slice halfway to his mouth to shoot her a smile that says more than Will needs to see.

 

“I don’t actually owe you an explanation for anything about me and Amelia, Jules,” Will points out. “Some things get to be private.”

 

“Sure,” she says with a nod. “Some things. But if you tell me I’m wrong to be worried about you, I’ll call you a liar. I don’t think it’s crazy that I’m poking to find out how you are and circumstances _matter._ On top of that, I might have a better idea of what it’s like to have someone you love attacked than most people do.”

 

She means Jackson. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way she’d screamed over the body of her first love - the pain in her voice had been so incredibly visceral - or the sight of her hands drenched in the deepest red as she tried futilely to staunch the flow of blood from the knife wound in his gut. 

 

The very idea of going through something like that with Amelia has him squeezing his eyes shut against a swell of nausea.

 

“It’s terrifying,” Jules continues. “Loving people means you’re vulnerable. The world can be a dark and horrible place, and you can only control so much of it. I lost Jackson on the city streets. I almost lost both you _and_ Alex on the floor of an art museum at my own exhibit. Of all people, I know what you’re going through. And I just wanna look at you and know that you’re not so wrapped up in trying to control every bad thing that might happen to people you care about that you forget to care for them, too.”

 

Will stares at her for a beat. He’s never heard it put that way and it leaves him unsettled. “I’ve managed okay with most of my family and friends wearing masks for years, haven’t I?”

 

“That’s not the same,” Jules insists. “And you know it. There’s a world of difference between training and working as a team with a plan versus being jumped by three men trying to kill you the minute you step into your apartment.”

 

All of the _‘what ifs’_ race through Will’s head. One of them escapes before he can hold it back. “If she hadn’t seen the reflection of that gun in the mirror…”

 

“But _she did_ ,” Jules reminds him, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “She did.”

 

“Part of me feels like… If she hadn’t found us, found _me_ …” It’s too much, the words tumbling out of him _and_ letting Jules hold his hand, so he tugs his fingers back as he blurts out the rest. “If she hadn’t been so set on being a vigilante to take down Domino, she’d be safe.”

 

“You’re lookin’ at it backwards,” Alex says. Will glances at him to find him leaning against the counter, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “They ain’t after her ‘cause she’s Providence. They’re after her ‘cause she’s Amelia Prescott. She’s a good woman with a dangerous statement she’s determined to give in court. If she hadn’t found us, if she hadn’t trained, she’d be dead by now. An’ somewhere deep inside, you know that.”

 

Will’s heart pounds as he considers that. He casts a wary look at Jules whose lips twist in silent agreement with her fiancé.

 

“Kinda selfish of you to claim so much blame for things you have nothing to do with, if you ask me,” Jules says with a shrug before eating a hot pepper all on its own.

 

Will frowns. He knows she means well, but her words still irk him. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. She’s here. She’s Providence. There’s no changing those things. She’s made it pretty clear she’s not going anywhere.”

 

Jules grins. “I _do_ love how stubborn she is. It’s delightful. You need more people like that in your life.”

 

“There’s no shortage of stubborn people in my life, but thanks,” Will replies.

 

“ _You’re welcome,”_ Jules says.

 

“Was there a _point_ to this visit?” Will asks. “Were you here to check on Amelia, or…?”

 

“I’m here because of you, dumbass,” Jules tell him. “Wasn’t that obvious? I care about you and I’m sorta done walking on eggshells worried you might crumble more if I poke too much. I’ve tried that for the last two years and obviously I need a new tactic. So, I’ve decided I’m going to mother hen you instead.”

 

“Oh God.”

 

“I go by Jules, actually.”  


“There’s nothing to poke,” Will says. The disbelief on her face nearly makes him drop the act. “Really. You said yourself I looked better.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause you trimmed that dead animal you’ve been carrying around on your face,” she snorts. “Not because you’ve, like, _faced_ anything.”

 

“How I deal with my problems is my business.”

 

“Might be, if you dealt with them at all,” Jules mutters.

 

Will’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I said I’m fine, Jules. It means I’m _fine.”_

 

“That ain’t what the chief said, an’ you know it, Vato,” Alex reminds him softly. Will winces, dropping his head to glare at his pizza. He’s been actively avoiding thinking about this. He hasn’t even told anyone about it. “I got a whole crew to worry about. He’s got a whole station. The doc agreed you gotta sit with her and talk some shit out before you’re back on duty. Sara, Javi and I are gonna be here for you - for whatever you need, whenever you need it - but I can’t have you on a truck where you might get yourself or somebody else hurt.”

 

Somewhere deep inside, Will’s actually relieved that the decision was made for him. His work gives him so much fulfillment, adds so much meaning to his life, but he’s been quietly terrified for ages that he’s gonna have a flashback and screw up when it really matters. And, besides that, it _should_ be taken away from him. He’s a mess, even if he doesn’t want to talk about it. If he can’t even pull it together for his team, he doesn’t deserve to ride with them. They need someone they can rely on.

 

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t pissed and hurt that something so important was _taken_ from him.

 

“I’m sorry I can’t just shut it all out,” Will snaps. “It’s _hard_. Getting shot sucks. Recovering from it _sucks_. I’m not the same as I was before. And while I was trying to do amazing things like standing up and walking two feet without help, I had the great joy of watching the two of you completely wrapped up in each other with your dogs and your little house and this whole life you’ve built together, while I was still right here trying to work through this shit on my own.”

 

“And whose fault is that?” Jules demands, getting in his face. “You can complain about being alone or you can push everyone away, but you don’t get to do both. Stop writing your own sob story and get it the fuck together, Will. You want to be supported and wrapped up in someone with two dogs and a house and a life you build together? Then _fucking do it_. Stop hiding and stop biting off the heads of everyone who cares about you. You’re _damn_ lucky Amelia’s stuck around. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t have. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start fighting for what you want. It’s the only way you stand a chance of getting it.”

 

In hindsight, he’ll wonder how this fight didn’t happen sooner. Jules has never bitten her tongue in her life. That this hasn’t come to a head before now says a _lot_ about how carefully she’s been dealing with him. But in the moment, he doesn’t see that. All he sees is a lecture coming from someone who has every advantage he doesn’t.

 

“Thank you for your learned wisdom, Jules,” Will grits out, shoving his plate away. His appetite is suddenly nowhere to be found. “I’m sure everything seems very simple from where you’re sitting with your charmed life.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“So you pushed past whatever horrors you had living in your head. I’m glad for that. Really, I am.” Will gets out of his chair and wipes his hands with a paper towel. “But the idea that you have any grasp on what I’m dealing with is a fucking joke. You got your happy ending. Congratulations. But that was always going to happen for you. You’re Oliver and Felicity Queen’s firstborn. You had the whole damn _world_ at your feet from the second you existed. You thought you weren’t wanted? That sucks. I know because I flat out heard that I wasn’t from my grandmother’s mouth. Do you see the difference there? Unlike you, it wasn’t something I invented. So, you think you can come in here and tell me that my problems are my own fault because I’m not fighting for myself? Fuck you, Jules. That’s _all_ I’ve done my entire life and I’m goddamn _tired_ of it!”

 

The room feels like a pressure cooker, like everything’s just waiting to blow. Will’s hackles raise, his entire body tensing at the newly exposed, raw underbelly of his trauma. He’s dimly aware of Alex standing frozen nearby, moving only his eyes as he holds his breath and bounces his gaze back and forth between siblings, but Will’s attention stays honed in on his sister.

 

Jules has always been pale, but she’s positively ashen right now. Eyes wide, lips parted, all she does is stare at him for so long that Will almost loses it.

 

“Have you lost your mind?”

 

Will laughs, the sound coming out in an ugly scrape as he shakes his head. That’s so typical, isn’t it? It’s so _easy_ , like they’d fucking rehearsed it. The second he shows too much, someone gives him the opening to make it a self-effacing joke as an escape. 

 

“Yeah, Jules, that’s it,” Will replies with a sarcastic smile. “I’m so exhausted that nothing I’m saying means anything at all. Forget it. I’m shitty company. You guys should go eat your pizza in the park.”

 

“Not a chance in hell,” Jules snaps, sliding off the barstool. Her movements don’t match the sharpness of her tone. Will watches her edge toward him, like she’s approaching a wounded animal. She’s not wrong. “You were the _only_ one I believed wanted me when I was little. You have to know that.”

 

Will closes his eyes with a hoarse, “Yeah.”

 

“I _needed_ you.”

 

“Yep,” he says, eyes snapping open again. He doesn’t look at her, though. He can’t. “So there I was. ‘Cause that’s what I do, right? I help people. And I make them laugh. That’s me. That’s why I matter.”

 

“Oh my God, Will,” she says, her voice so horrified that he actually looks at her. “There is no end to the list of reasons that you matter. Not to me, not to Alex, not to Mom or Dad, not to Ellie or Nate. And not to Amelia, either. Forget Grandma. The rest of us have. She’d cut her nose off to spite her face. She’s missed out on so much because she’s bitter and stuck on her own choices from a generation ago.”

 

“Nevermind.” Will sets his jaw, staring at a blank spot over her shoulder. “I really am tired. Stuff’s close to the surface. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

 

“ _Hello,”_ Jules growls, snapping her fingers annoyingly close to this face. “I _want_ to deal with this, dorkface. It’s why I’m here.”

 

“I know,” he says, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her. It provides a great reason not to look her in the eye, but all of a sudden he’s highly aware that Alex stands nearby watching them. “I know you care. I do. And I’m grateful that you wanted to check on me.”

 

_But you shouldn’t have to. I should be okay on my own. I shouldn’t be someone who stresses you out and lays a burden on your shoulders. I never wanted to be that._

 

“I don’t think I’m being clear enough,” Jules says, pulling back to look up at him. “If anyone in the world treated you as badly as you’re treating yourself, I’d kick their ass.”

 

Will’s lips curl into a smile despite himself. “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

 

“And I feel like I need to remind you that therapy helped me,” she adds. “It’s different. I know it is. But after the kidnapping and when I spiraled a year later… It didn’t fix everything and it wasn’t easy, but it did help me find a way to move forward. And, Will, I love you, but in a lot of ways I think you’re still back on that museum floor. And it hurts me. It hurts both of us, because you wouldn’t have been there at all if it weren’t for me and Alex.”

 

He stiffens. “That’s not true.”

 

“Yeah? You go to a lot of art exhibits? Dive in front of a lot of crossbows?”

 

“What happened had nothing to do with you guys. It was Helena.”

 

“Because she got stuck standing still and couldn’t find a way to move forward,” Jules says. Will blinks rapidly at the gravity of what she’s inferring, but she isn’t done. “She tried to kill you two years ago, Will. Don’t let her finish the job now.”

 

“Chica, he’s gonna need some air,” Alex murmurs. 

 

When he hears his best friend’s voice, Will suddenly realizes that it’s stifling, his lungs filling with thick, muggy air that has far too little oxygen. It’s only when Jules steps away that he feels like he can breathe again.

 

“When’s Amelia back?” she asks softly.

 

“About four,” Will replies, eyes flying to the clock. It’s only one now. That lets him breathe even easier. He isn’t sure he has it in him to put on a front for her right now, and he absolutely doesn’t have it in him to fall apart with her either. He needs time to sort his thoughts, so he’s glad he’s got a while.

 

He’s even more glad when Alex polishes off his slice of pizza and rounds the kitchen counter to join Jules. He grips her arm lovingly as he says, “We oughta give him more space than a few feet.”

 

Jules’ eyes are shot through with heartfelt pain as she looks up at her fiancé. “That’s all I’ve been doing for years.”

  
“I know, cariño, I know,” he assures her, kissing the top of her head. “Ain’t nothin’ fixed overnight. Or over pizza. Lotsa words got said today. Maybe let some of them settle, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Jules agrees with a quiet, resigned sigh. But when she looks back at Will, a fire sparks in her eyes. “Listen, I’m gonna fight for you whether you fight for yourself or not. So maybe don’t make it harder on me than you have to. Okay?”

 

Will bites his tongue. His damn clever sister. He might have a hard time acting in his own best interests, but he’s never failed to act in hers. 

 

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he allows.

 

“God, you’re difficult.” Jules sighs. “Okay. I’m gonna go hang out with my dogs because when they’re sad at least they let me scratch their ears and feed them treats.”

 

“I let you feed me pizza,” Will points out, grabbing the half-empty box. The three of them migrate to the front door. “Not sure the ear thing would work for me, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

 

“You’re a whole lot more than sad, Vato,” Alex says, leaving Will’s shoulders to fall as he cuts through the forced levity. “Ain’t no shame in that. Not a bit. But it’s gonna take more than junk food and Julianna pettin’ your hair to make it better. Start fightin’. You got backup ready and waiting.”

 

“Thanks,” Will says, opening the door for them. He hands Alex the pizza box. “Have a nice afternoon, guys. I really do appreciate you stopping by.”

 

“It’s possible you might want to get used to that happening,” Jules advises, kissing him on the cheek before stepping out into the hall. “Call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

 

_A time machine? A way to erase select memories? What can you possibly do?_

 

“I will,” Will replies, waving goodbye as they leave. When they’re out of sight, he closes the door and lets his head fall against it with a loud thud.

 

That was not how he saw their lunch going at all. Everything keeps closing in on him. The people he cares about are noticing more and more that something’s wrong, and he can’t quite brush it off like he could before. They haven’t told him yet that he’s too much trouble to bother with, but they’ve got to be thinking it.

 

They must. He is.

 

But he doesn’t want to think about that right now. There’s actually very little he wants to think about. He’s got three hours, give or take, until Amelia’s back and he’s absolutely set on spending that time with no company at all.

 

It would be a lie to say the urge to tip back a couple drinks doesn’t make him pause. That’s the easy way to stop thinking and it might even afford him a little more sleep. But he doesn’t want to. Or, maybe to be more accurate, he wants to prove that Amelia was wrong, that he doesn’t have a problem. He wants to show her, to show himself, to show everyone.

 

So, he cleans instead.

 

As distractions go, at least it’s productive. He loses himself in chores, starting with the obvious ones and moving on to more and more unusual tasks as time passes. His place isn’t that big, but it’s not like Beth cleans up after herself very well. Her bathroom alone takes a solid forty-five minutes. But by the time Amelia walks through the door with Digg at her side and bags of groceries in their arms, he’s vacuumed the vents, dusted the ceiling fans, and scrubbed the edges of his baseboards.

 

“Oh… _Wow_ ,” Amelia says, looking around with wide eyes before settling on him. A delighted smile takes over her whole face. He can’t help the way his heart goes double-time at the sight. “You cleaned up.”

 

“Yeah,” he replies as she sets down the groceries and heads over to him. “I started off just doing daily stuff, but then I got a little carried away and-”

 

Her fingers ghost over the recently-trimmed edges of his beard. “I didn’t mean the house, Will.”

 

Melting under her touch isn’t even a choice. Despite the angry words they exchanged this morning and the tense note they left things on, one touch from her has him feeling like he can breathe fully again. Strain slips away, bleeding from his muscles as she gives him a soft smile while her fingers gently stroke his cheek.

 

God, she’s addictive. It would be so much easier if she weren’t, but he _craves_ her. His heart and soul root themselves in her touch, and sometimes he’s weak enough to give himself over to it.

 

For a moment.

 

A week ago he’d have pulled her closer, or at least kissed her palm. Today, he twines his fingers with hers, giving her a tiny smile before pulling her hand away.

 

She tries to hide her frown, but she isn’t quick enough. She searches his eyes, and he knows she can see how tired he is. Truth be told, he’s past exhausted. It was easy to ignore when he kept moving, filling his time with mundane cleaning tasks. But now that he’s stopped - now that she’s touching him so softly - it hits him even harder. His emotions are drained from background worry about her the entire afternoon. Mentally, he feels like he’s been through several battles today alone, starting with her nightmare and continuing into their little spat, then Jules and Alex… And with himself. Always with himself.

 

“It looks better,” she says, nodding to his beard. “You… You look good.”

 

He wants to laugh because he probably looks like he got run over multiple times by a Mack truck. But there’s a hopeful shyness in her eyes that makes his heart ache and - God help him - he believes her. At least, he believes she means it. 

 

Will’s still holding her hand in his and he squeezes her fingers. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She rolls her eyes and gestures at at the angry bruise on her cheek. “That’s not you,” he clarifies. “That’s what was done _to_ you.”

 

And just like that, sadness fills her eyes. She purses her lips, her eyebrow twitching like she’s trying to keep herself from making a point. He gets it, even when it goes unsaid, and he steps back, letting go of her hand.

 

“Thanks, Digg,” he says, turning to where the older man is tactfully rearranging grocery bags in the kitchen, obviously giving them space. “Any problems?”

 

“Not a one,” Digg replies. “You two in for the night?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says. “I’m not going anywhere. Thank you, John. Have a nice night.”

 

“Same to you,” he returns. “Lyla will be here around eight tomorrow. I’ll give her a rundown of the details from today.”

 

Amelia hesitates, her mouth opening before she changes her mind. She nods. “Understood.”

 

Digg sticks around long enough to recite basic security instructions they both definitely already know before he makes a swift goodbye and heads out.

 

And then, it’s just the two of them.

 

“I should get the groceries put away,” Amelia says, turning toward the kitchen to grab one of the bags. “Eggplant parmesan sound good for dinner?”

 

“Sure,” Will agrees, a pang hitting him in the chest as he watches her move through his kitchen with ease. He joins her, absently unpacking another bag, unable to keep his eyes off of her. “That’s Beth’s favorite.”

 

Amelia gives a little laugh as she puts things away. “I know. She told me. That’s what gave me the idea. I haven’t made it in ages.”

 

It sounds so sweet, and he wants to fall into that feeling and stay right there where nothing bad can happen ever again. But that’s only a fantasy and this is reality, a reality where her words set off alarm bells in his head. 

 

Will freezes, holding his breath, eyes drilling into her. It takes a moment for her to realize he’s gone still.

 

“What?” Amelia asks, setting down a bag of oranges. “What’s wrong?”

 

A guarded tone takes over his voice. “When did you talk to Beth?”

 

“Just a few hours ago,” Amelia replies, her brow furrowing for a beat. “She loves the cabin, by the way. She said that she and her dad were going to go tubing down the river. She seemed really excited about it.”

 

“Someone is trying to _kill_ you, Amelia,” Will bites out, tension bunching his muscles.

 

Amelia frowns. “I didn’t actually forget that,” she says slowly, turning to face him fully and crossing her arms. “Does that mean I’m supposed to stop living my life entirely?”

 

“No, but it does mean you probably shouldn’t be calling my baby sister and giving them another target.”

 

“She called _me_. You want me to decline her calls?”

 

“Yes,” Will replies, his voice rising. “Yes, I do. What if your phone’s tapped? What if someone overhears? What if they use that call to find her and use her to get to you?”

 

Amelia stares at him mutely, the only sign that she heard him is how white her nails turn where she squeezes her own arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she finally says.

 

“Not really.”

 

“There’s protective,” she says, stepping closer to him, “and then there’s whatever _this_ is. Felicity would know if my phone were tapped. If you think I’m stupid enough to chat with Beth about her location with other people in earshot, that’s a whole different conversation. But if you’re going to protect Beth by isolating her from people who care about her, that’s a completely different problem. How much would it hurt her if I started refusing her calls?”

 

Will growls, hitting the counter with a stiff finger. “And we’re right back to why I didn’t want her meeting you at all.”

 

“God, Will!” Amelia grabs a box of noodles and slams them on the counter. Her eyes water as her jaw tightens and Will feels like a complete asshole. But he doesn’t back down, even as she glares at him. “Ever, right? Because you’ve been convinced since day one - since _before_ day one, really - that we were doomed. You wrote the end of our story before we got to the start. And honestly, Will, _screw you_ for doing that. You gave me the best moments of my life only to pull them out from under me, and then _blamed me_ for it. And, you know what, you did it to her, too. And I don’t care what narrative you try to sell yourself, but I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He wants to argue, but he doesn’t have the words. And she’s not done.

 

“I’m sorry that I’ve given you so little to believe in,” she says, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry that your trust in me is so low that you think I’d bail on both of you eventually. But I’m not leaving Starling. I’m not giving up on you. And I’m certainly not cutting off Beth, because that little girl has made it clear she needs me in her life. And, you know what? I need her in mine, too. So you can decide that being with me is too big a risk, but you can’t choose to make me cut off Beth. Not when her dad thanks me constantly for being a part of her life. Not when I can see how much I matter to her. ‘Cause, I’ve got to tell you, Will, seeing that you matter to someone and that they actually want you in their life is a pretty great feeling that I haven’t had in a while.”

 

“You can’t possibly think you don’t matter to me.”

 

“No,” Amelia replies. “But I’m pretty damn sure you don’t matter much to yourself and that’s not any better.”

 

“Damn it, Amelia, I can’t _do_ this right now,” he snaps. “Not after today. I’m so fucking tired of being picked apart by everyone. _I’m sorry_ that I’m not enough for you, that I’m such a goddamn failure. Maybe that’s the point.”

 

“You didn’t fail me!” she shouts. “God, Will, _open your eyes._ You’re failing yourself. And you _know it._ No one’s picking you apart. We care about you. _That’s_ the point.”

 

Will damn near bites through his tongue before yelling, “I can’t be what you need, Amelia! Why the hell can’t you see that?”

 

“Stop deciding for me what I need!” she shouts back, her hands coming up as if to shake him, but she doesn’t. They tremble and she growls before shoving them into her hair.

 

 _Goddamn stubborn, beautiful woman_. 

 

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes lit up with resolve. With the bruise on her face and her split lip, she looks like a warrior mid-battle. She is, he supposes. But there’s one problem: he doesn’t have any fight left in him.

 

“We’re talking in circles and I’m too tired for this,” Will says, turning away. “I need some air.”

  

Her jaw drops. “You’re _leaving_?”

 

“I need space, Amelia.”

 

“That’s the opposite of what you need,” she retorts, but even though he hears her footfalls trailing after him, she doesn’t stop him. Instead she goes to her purse and grabs her phone.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

 

“Texting Jules,” she replies, her voice hard as she punches out a message. “I’m asking if she can come over and keep me company because if someone breaks in here and attacks me while you’re out, all you’ll do is blame yourself. And while you’d probably be happy to take on more guilt and self-loathing, I refuse to do that to you.”

 

Will pales at her words, his stomach souring. His head’s such a mess that he hadn’t even thought of the danger in leaving her alone. Thank God she did, though, because she’s right. For all their arguing about safety and all his panic about security, she’s the one with a solid head on her shoulders taking steps to ensure both.

 

Yet another way he’s useless.

 

He needs to get out of here.

 

“She’ll be over in ten,” Amelia announces, looking up at him with a tight jaw as she drops her phone to grip the countertop until her knuckles turn white. “I’m pretty sure I can survive that long on my own.”

 

“My gun’s in my nightstand,” he tells her, grabbing the doorknob. “Take it. Use it if you have to. Don’t wait up.”

 

“You’ve already proven that waiting for you is endless, anyway.”

 

The irritation in her voice bleeds into him and he finds himself slamming the door shut as he leaves. But everything he’s trying to escape goes with him. Amelia’s words ring in his ears, no matter the distance. Fear, frustration, and helplessness cling to him like a shadow that threatens to swallow him whole. He should want Beth and Amelia to get along. In a perfect world, he’d have introduced them to each other himself. He should be glad Amelia’s so damn stubborn, that she believes in him and loves him. But he doesn’t deserve any of it. All he does is fail, and he’s so fucking tired of watching himself fail her. The longer she stays, the more it will happen because it’s just who he is. Why the hell can’t she see it’s better to go, to leave him while she still has a chance?

 

She’d almost left him last night, though. They’d almost taken her. If she hadn’t seen the reflection of the gun in the mirror, if she hadn’t moved fast enough…

 

Images of her with blank, glassy eyes and her blood spattered all over her entryway fill his head.

 

The nearest bar is two blocks from his place, but even that feels too far. Will walks as fast as he can without calling it a run. It’s not even happy hour yet, so the place is half-empty. He takes a seat at the end of the bar, hoping to be left alone by everyone but the bartender. He orders the cheapest whisky they have. The taste doesn’t matter much right now. He just wants the solace it brings after it starts to burn his veins and dull the edges of his thoughts.

 

He drinks more than he should. It’s enough that the bartender has to confirm he isn’t driving before he keeps the whisky flowing. That doesn’t faze Will. It’s only when he tugs out his phone to place on the bartop for the sole purpose of being able to see Amelia that he knows he’s in deep. He traces the lines of broken glass over her smile. 

 

The bartender gives him a sympathetic look as he re-fills his glass again. “Pretty girl.”

 

“Best I’ve ever known,” Will admits, taking a heavy swig. “Deserves a hell of a lot better than me.”

 

“She think that?”

 

Will shakes his head and sighs. “Be better if she did.”

 

Amelia’s right about a lot of things, but most of all she’s right that he wrote the end of their relationship before it even began. But why wouldn’t he? He’s never managed to keep her before. Why should this time be any different?

 

He shakes off the questions plaguing in his mind. That’s what he came here to do, after all.

 

“Got any pretzels?” 

 

“Crappy dinner,” the bartender replies, dropping a basket in front of him.

 

“She’s cooking,” Will realizes, brushing the broken glass atop her picture again. Her smile disappears with every pass of his finger. “A nice dinner. Probably right now.”

 

“If you’re picking pretzels and whisky over that, no offense, man, but I question your priorities.”

 

Will nods, finishing the rest of his drink. “Me too.”

 

None of that gets him moving off his barstool, though. He eats the pretzels and drinks until the room sways. But, it does nothing to take away from his admission. His priorities _are_ a fucking mess. 

 

Just like him. 

 

When the bar gets to be too crowded, Will settles up his tab using his credit card. It’s a dumb move, but he hasn’t been making good choices lately, so why start now? He edges through the growing crowd. Groups of friends meeting up for after-work drinks and more than a few couples on dates all but fill the room. He used to be like them. He can remember sitting with Alex and Elliot and Javi, laughing over a pitcher of beer. There had been men like him there back then, too. Sad, hollow men drinking alone in the darkened corners. He’d felt bad for them at the time. Pitied them, even. He knows how he looks to everyone here because he used to look through eyes much like theirs. It prompts him to avoid looking anyone in the face, as shame races through him.

 

He doesn’t want to be like this, but he doesn’t know how to be anything else. He just wants to be normal again, like he used to be. He just wants the aching sense of despair to go away.

 

Nothing about being drunk is fun, as he stumbles home. When he finally reaches his door, he drops his keys three times trying to unlock it. He’s just leaning down to pick them up for a fourth attempt when the door opens.

 

Jules stares down at him with so much anger and helplessness that he just wants to disappear.

 

“You smell like whisky,” she tells him before he even finishes standing.

 

“Mind your own business, Jules,” he mumbles, embarrassment burning his cheeks. He holds onto the door frame to keep himself steady as he walks in. 

 

He thinks he does a pretty good job until Jules follows up with, “God, Will, did you drink the entire bar?” But it’s not her he’s looking at. It’s Amelia, standing in the middle of his living room with reddened eyes that drill into him, her bottom lip raw where it’s trapped between her teeth, her hands wringing before her.

 

Fuck. He did this to her. Again. He’s made her cry over him way too many times and he doesn’t know how to stop.

 

“Thank you, Jules,” Amelia says, her voice thick with the tears she has yet to let fall.

 

“Anytime,” Jules assures her. “Thanks for dinner.”

 

“Do you want to take some home to Alex?”

 

Jules pauses. “Why don’t we come by tomorrow for lunch and share the leftovers with you?

 

A sad smile tugs at Amelia’s lips. “I’d like that. Thank you. Have a good night.”

 

“Try to do the same,” Jules says before zeroing in on Will with a considerably more severe look. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

“Can try,” he counters with an empty, lopsided smile. “Prob’ly gonna sleep ‘til noon.”

 

“Then I’ll be here at twelve oh five,” she replies with a fake smile.

 

Will sighs. “Don’t bother.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Jules says. “I’ll talk to you when you’re sober. Whenever that is.”

 

 _It didn’t go so well last time we talked and I was stone-cold sober then_.

 

He looks away instead of replying. He doesn’t have it in him to go rounds with Jules. He’s not sure he has it in him to go rounds with anyone right now. He doesn’t look up as the door clicks shut behind his sister.

 

“Where’d you go?” Amelia asks quietly.

 

“Bar down the street,” he admits, finally looking at her with broken eyes and a heavy heart. “Jus’ kinda… wound up there.”

 

She nods. “Did you mean to get drunk?”

 

“Yeah,” he says around a knot in his throat. He closes his eyes and presses a clammy palm to his forehead. “Seemed like something I needed just then. ‘Cause my head, it wouldn’t shut up an’ I just wanted quiet.”

 

The silence stretches on for too long, long enough that he knows if he looked at her again, all he’d see is judgment and disgust, and the realization that he’s not worth half as much concern as she gives him. Will doesn’t open his eyes. He can’t. It’s everything he knows should be there, everything he’s been trying to tell her, but the reality of seeing that shining back at him right now would be too much.

 

“‘Melia,” he croaks. “I…”

 

Her hand touches his. Will’s eyes snap open to find her standing before him. He hadn’t even heard her move. He tells himself not to look at her, to turn away, but she’s the center of his world. He has to see her, even if he knows what waits for him there.

 

But he’s wrong. There’s nothing in her eyes except sorrow and concern.

 

“‘M sorry,” he says, his voice breaking as his eyes well up. “Don’t mean to be like this. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doin’ an’ it scares the fuck out of me. You’re the best thing’s ever happened to me an’ I feel like I’m just dragging you down. Don’t want that. I don’t wanna be the one who breaks you.”

 

She doesn’t say anything, instead slowly pulling him into her arms, giving him the time to stop her if he wants. But he doesn’t. He needs this as much as he resents the hell out of himself for needing it. The comfort she brings, earned or not, makes him feel like he can rest.

 

And he needs that. So, so badly.

 

“I’m stronger than you give me credit for, Will,” she murmurs as he sags against her. He winds his arms around her with a needy sigh. “How about you let me decide what I can handle instead of choosing for me?”

 

She doesn’t get it. She thinks he’s just cracked in places that can be mended, but the truth is that he’s been shattered to bits and he’s barely managing to hold the same shape he had before.

 

“Should let you go,” he whispers against her shoulder as he holds her tighter. “‘M too selfish.”

 

“No,” Amelia counters, kissing his temple. Her lips linger like she’s trying to use her love to will the very idea out of his head. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met.”

 

He shakes his head, burying his nose in the crook of her neck instead of looking at her. He breathes her in, sliding his hands up her back. “Am with you. ‘Cause I need you. But all I give you is heartbreak. Wish I could love you better. You d’serve it. You d’serve so much better than me.”

 

“Will, look at me,” she says, stroking the back of his neck before nudging him with her fingers. He whimpers and shakes his head. “Please, honey, I need you to see me.”

 

It sounds like a simple request, but when he pulls back and looks her in the eye, all the emotion on display on her face is anything but simple. She’s so expressive, so vulnerable with him. How can she keep doing that, when he’s fucked it up so many times? She’s so much stronger than him, in so many ways.

 

“Being with you is exactly what I want,” Amelia tells him. She cups his face, holding him tightly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth it. We have problems. _You_ have problems. I’m not denying that. I just want you to understand that for me the highs are worth the lows, and that I _want_ to fight through the hard times with you. Even if they’re worse than you thought they would be.”

 

“I just…” He pauses, letting go of her to press his palms to his eyes. He shakes his head, dislodging her hold on him, but nothing stops the tears from spilling onto his cheeks. They’re hot against his skin, scalding his face, and he has to hold onto her again for stability. The room sways when he re-opens his eyes, his thoughts spilling out without hesitation. “I used to daydream ‘bout us… ya know? Years of it. Wishes and dreams. Never looked like this.”

 

“You weren’t the only one,” she admits, curling her fingers around the back of his neck.

 

“I was better,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t broken. No flashbacks. No nightmares. Never woulda pushed you ‘way.”

 

“Life’s messier than dreams,” Amelia says. “That’s okay, Will. That’s how it always is.”

 

“Never would’ve yelled at you, never woulda argued,” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken. He smiles even as more tears fall. “We’d have this house with a yard. You’d laugh all the time an’ smile. And I’d know it was ‘cause of me, ‘cause I made you happy.”

 

“You _do.”_

 

“Can’t see how,” Will replies. “S’nice, those dreams. I held onto ‘em a long time. Picture perfect little house with the big yard, a baby boy with your eyes and a girl who loved baseball as much as you.”

 

Her entire face crumples, contorting in visible pain as she slams her eyes shut. Her hands shake as she lets go of him and covers her face on a broken, “Oh my God.” One of her hands drops to her stomach like she’s trying not to throw up.

 

“‘M’sorry,” Will says, backtracking as fast as he can. “Sorry, I just… Ignore me. ‘M drunk. Sayin’ too much. We never talked ‘bout any of that, even when things were better. Dunno if you ever even wanted any of that.”

 

She turns away, her fingers curling into her stomach too tightly as all the color drains from her face. Her hand slips down to cover her mouth, barely muffling the horrible mournful sob she lets out. 

 

He did it again. He made her cry. This is about as far from the daydreams in his head as he can imagine.

 

“‘Melia… I’m sorry,” he says, hesitantly touching her back in an attempt to comfort her.

 

“Don’t be.” She shakes her head, turning back. Her eyes are still shut and her face twists in agony as she adds, “It’s a nice dream.”

 

“It’s just… I’m not the guy in them, anymore,” Will says. “He never made you cry like I do.”

 

Amelia takes a few long, slow breaths, visibly centering herself before she opens her eyes and looks back at him. They’re red and watery, but clear as she whispers, “He never loved me like you do, either.”

 

“He did,” Will insists with a frown. “He loved you _all_ the time. So much.”

 

“But it was a dream,” she says, taking his palm and pressing it to her chest, right over her heart. “I couldn’t _feel_ it, so what did it matter in the end? We’re never going to be perfect. Dreams and reality never match up. But I’d rather have real with all its messiness than settle for going through the motions of life while I daydream about something better.”

 

Will shakes his head. “But I…”

 

“What?”

 

“‘M scared,” he admits, gulping back tears as he stares at his fingers over her heart.

 

“Of what?”

 

He looks up to meet her eye, feeling as exposed as he ever has. “That you’ll see I’m not enough. It’s been lots of years since I thought of you as anything less than forever. An’ if I let myself believe that’s real an’ then you get tired of dealin’ with watching me fail when I can’t put myself back together and then you go… What’m I gonna do then?”

 

Amelia sighs, her shoulders falling. “You still think I’ll leave.”

 

“‘Melia, I can’t ‘magine why the hell you stay as it is.”

 

There’s a profound sadness on her face as she stares at him. But there’s resolve, too, and it lines every one of her words in steel as she looks him straight in the eye. “I guess I’ll have to keep showing you until you see it, then.”

 

“I wanna,” he says. “I wanna believe it. I wanna see why you think I’m worth it. I wanna feel it.”

 

“Well,” she says, giving him a soft smile and a lingering kiss on his cheek. “That’s a start.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever I did to my wrist remains a problem. Finally saw a doctor on Friday and they're sending me to occupational therapy and dosed me with heavy duty anti-inflammatory meds, plus ordered me to ice it three times a day and wear braces for a while. I haven't been able to write or edit almost at all because my wrist pops and cracks when I use it. So... again, responses to comments and asks will likely be short (and punched out on my phone). If you have a burning question you're dying to know that requires a bit more to reply, send it via ask on tumblr and I'll do a video response. Thank you for continuing to read and leave comments. I always worry that lame responses from me will me fewer people leave comments (but it hasn't so far) and it means so much to see that people are enjoying the story. 
> 
> No huge warnings this chapter, just Arrow-and-fic-typical stuff, I think. Enjoy! <3

Considering she literally lives with him, it’s impressive how thoroughly Will manages to avoid Amelia over the next few days. More than that, he seems to be avoiding everyone. She can’t say she blames him after all he’d revealed while drunk that night. 

 

It still hurts, though.

 

He’d held onto her that evening, much like she’d held onto him the night before. It hadn’t taken long for him to fall asleep, but even in his slumber, he’d clung to her. She thinks it was the first actual rest he’d managed in over a week. She might not be able to fight his battles for him - or even _with_ him - but at least she’d given him that.

 

But when she woke up the next morning, he’d already left the bed. When she headed to the family room to speak to him, he was busy on the phone. They’d scarcely exchanged a few words before Lyla had shown up, and then he’d been out the door with a brief, casual goodbye as he avoided all eye contact.

 

She’s never left alone. He makes certain of that. But even when the distance between them is just a few feet, it feels like chasms dividing them. She wants to reach across and pull him back into her arms, but she knows he won’t grab hold if she offers him her hands. An ache builds day after day as the desperate need for unity grows even more. 

 

Her apartment won’t be an active crime scene anymore the day after next. She’ll be able to go home, such as it is. Every bit of her rejects that notion. It’s _not_ her home anymore. It wasn’t before the attack, really, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it now. Will she be able to walk through her living room without seeing a body on the floor? Can she even turn the lights off without seeing phantoms moving in the shadows? 

 

And where will that leave her and Will? They’re barely interacting now. Will they talk at all once she leaves? God, she can’t stomach that idea. It’s the only thing she can think of that’s worse than being lonely while standing right across from him. 

 

At least when she’s here she can _see_ him. Every now and then they trade sad smiles. Sometimes he parts his lips like he’s going to say something before changing his mind. Sometimes she catches him watching her when he thinks she’s distracted. All those tiny moments will disappear if she’s gone. She knows they will, and she feels like she’s mourning their relationship all over again. It’s like losing the ghost of what they had, and the harder she tries to hold on, the quicker it dissolves in her grasp.

 

But what’s the alternative?

 

“You ready for this?”

 

Her head snaps up to find Tempest staring at her.

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says, straightening her mask. “Sure. I’m good.”

 

Jules nods before glancing to where her father sits in the front of the van. They trade a look that Amelia can’t begin to decipher. It almost seems like Jules is asking for permission to follow her train of thought. That notion is reinforced when Jules bites the tip of her tongue before looking back at Amelia.

 

“There’s no shame if you need to sit this one out,” Jules says. “You’ve got a lot going on. No one’s gonna blame you if your head’s not in the game. But now’s the time to figure that out.”

 

She’s right. But, the only thing her statement does is steel Amelia’s resolve. She looks at the others piled in the back of the van with her. They sway with every move Diggle makes as he drives, and all of their eyes stay fixed on her. It’s a full load tonight. Squeezing her, Jules, Alex, Ellie, Sara, and Eric into the back of the van had been no easy feat, but this is a high stakes mission, her first as part of the team. Patrols might have been her training grounds and saving Will might have been her first real high-stakes foray into vigilantism. She might have even fended off three attackers on her own, but this is different. It’s operating with a specific goal as a part of the team. It’s _more_. 

 

And it’s all hands on deck, which means she needs to get her head in the game.

 

Amelia sits up straighter and raises her chin. “Domino’s tried to kill me twice. Yes, it’s a lot, especially because we have no reason to think he’s going to stop now. But we finally have actionable intel and I’m not going to let it go to waste. I won’t let him expand his territory any more than he already has, and he doesn’t get to strike a police precinct without us getting in his way.”

 

The corner of Jules’ mouth ticks up slightly and she gives Amelia a small nod.

 

“It’s real personal for us,” Alex interjects, tilting his head to Sara. “We work with these guys all the time, known most of ‘em for years. Javi’s got a cousin stationed outta there. Domino don’t get to do this to cops, but he definitely don’t get to do it to the men an’ women at this precinct.”

 

“No, he doesn’t,” Amelia agrees. “My focus is right where it needs to be. I promise. Ellie, can you pull up the schematics again, please? Can we go over this one more time?”

 

Nobody misses the way Dart tenses at the request. Amelia holds her breath, but Ellie doesn’t do anything except activate a holographic floor plan of the precinct.

 

“Unfortunately, most of the names of Domino’s men from the financial records were aliases,” she recaps. “But we know thanks to some persuasive questioning from Lyla that they’ve got at least one man on the inside at this precinct.”

 

Even if it’s not new information, Amelia winces at all of the implications of that statement.

 

Sara lets out an impressive string of curses, just as she has every time they’ve gone over this. “I’m just tired of these assholes messing with people’s lives like they don’t matter,” she grits out through clenched teeth.

 

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs, reaching behind Jules to squeeze Sara’s shoulder in solidarity. The two of them lock eyes over Jules’ head.

 

“Plan is for them to get a bunch of guys arrested for petty crimes and tossed into lockup,” Ellie continues, touching a spot on the hologram. “Which is here. Their inside man is gonna slip them a key and break into the arms locker for the precinct. They’re planning on using the officers’ own weapons against them in an attack.”

 

“Cowards,” Alex grumbles, his body coiling, tensing to pounce the moment he has a target.

 

“Slippery cowards,” Jules reminds her fiancé, touching his arm and giving him a heavy look. “They’re careful. We need to be, too.”

 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, setting his jaw. It pops and he winces before sighing. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Ellie keeps going. “Eric’s gonna get arrested and tossed into lockup-”

 

“Old haunts, man,” Eric chimes in with a far-off look and the whisper of a smile. “It’s been a while.”

 

“-to give us a heads up when they start moving,” Ellie finishes. “He’s also the least likely to have been identified by Domino’s people.”

 

“We don’t know if they know who any of us are,” Sara adds with a bit more bite than necessary.

 

“That a bet you’re willing to make?” Ellie asks, wheeling around to glare at her. “‘Cause I’m not. And the minute you ID any Queen or Diggle as someone behind a mask, the rest easily fall into place. Except _maybe_ Amelia or Eric.”

 

A dry, painful-sounding laugh scrapes against Sara’s throat. “Yeah. That’s it. Everyone will know exactly who I am because I’m linked to _you.”_

 

Ellie sends her a vicious scowl, but Sara doesn’t look away. Amelia watches, her eyes darting between the two of them, but before anyone can say anything Ellie spins back to the hologram, jabbing her finger at another spot on it.

 

“Dad and Digg will get to the weapons locker to try and head them off at the pass. The rest of us will set up a perimeter and close in once we have a target.” Ellie looks up, nailing everyone with hard looks. “Did everyone put on a layer of body armor under their suits? This could get messy if they get to the guns.”

 

“They won’t,” Oliver says from the front seat. “But I’m always a fan of my kids in body armor.” He tilts his head, listening to something else as Ellie snorts and Jules rolls her eyes. Oliver turns back to them. “Your mother says she agrees. She also says to turn on your comms.”

 

All of them follow the order without question.

 

Felicity’s voice comes in loud and clear mid-rant.

 

“- _told_ them to check and make sure they had their body armor when they left. That’s standard procedure. If I have to run it out there like it’s a school lunch they forgot at home, I will, but there will also be words. Oh, there will be _so many words._ Lots of them. From me. Because if you’re going to be a vigilante then there’s a certain level of responsibility req-”

 

“We have it!” Jules interrupts. “Promise. No one forgot it, M… Overwatch.”

 

Eric snickers. “Ma Overwatch. I like it.”

 

“I am basically your den mother, young man,” Felicity snaps back before her voice goes distant. “Oh, God, I’m a vigilante den mother. When did that happen?”

 

“Roughly 2014,” Oliver replies, eyes scanning the passing cars. “Anything new?”

 

“Not a peep,” she says. “Harbinger is on site in plain clothes. She’s already inside the building... She says it’s quiet.”

 

“Quiet?” Digg echoes. He and Oliver trade looks. “It should be anything but quiet.”

 

“And yet…” Felicity says, her voice drifting again before suddenly becoming both loud and full of concern. “Hey there, stranger! How are you?”

 

Amelia doesn’t have to hear his voice to know that Felicity’s talking to Will, but the low, distinct rumble of his reply still makes her eyes flutter shut as a bolt of awareness races up her spine.

 

Jules reaches across the space to grab her hand with a raised eyebrow and a silent, _‘Are you okay? Is this too much? Can you concentrate with him there?’_  

 

Amelia lets out a heavy sigh before nodding, giving her a tiny smile.

 

“How’d you even know-” Felicity starts.

 

Sara answers before she can finish the question. “I told him. These are _our_ cops, the ones we work with every day. If anything was gonna get him to pull his head out of his ass, I thought it might be this.”

 

“I have a comm, you know,” Will says. 

 

It sounds like he’s right next to Amelia, and she can’t quite hide her quick inhale. It’s been a while since he’s been in the lair while she was in the field with the team. She’s not used to the sound of his voice in her ear.

 

“Oh good,” Sara replies with a cheshire cat smile. “I was hoping you did.”

 

“Pull up a chair,” Felicity offers. “I could use another pair of ears. And I’d like to impart some words of humble wisdom into _your_ ears before you leave.”

 

Eric chortles. “Bet you would.”

 

“Keep it up and I’ll vigilante-mom you, too,” Felicity threatens.

 

“I promise not to leave my weapons on the floor and to wash my own suit,” Eric vows.

 

“Smartass,” Oliver grumbles with an affectionate snort.

 

“Fish gotta swim,” Eric says with a shrug. “Bird’s gotta fly.”

 

“We’re three minutes out,” Digg announces. “Parking in the alley off Oak Grove.”

 

“I have serious questions about how we name these streets,” Felicity mutters, the sound of her fingers against the keys clacking in the background. “Okay, I hijacked the surveillance cams in the area and put them on a loop. You’re good.”

 

“We set?” Oliver asks, looking at each of the younger crew in the back.

 

“Ready to go,” Amelia confirms. 

 

She can’t be sure, but she thinks Will’s breath catches at the sound of her voice. Regardless, her heart skips a beat and it forces her to get her head on straight. Jules is right - this is an important mission and she refuses to be the reason they mess it up.

 

It’s go-time.

 

Things proceed according to plan… until they don’t.

 

Eric gets himself arrested for drunk and disorderly easily enough. He takes it a bit over-the-top when he pees on the tire of one of the police cars, announcing in a slurred voice that he has it on good authority that the best way to greet the cops is to pee on their cars. It prompts Oliver to grumble, “Whoever told him about that, we’re having a strongly-worded talk later,” but it also does the trick and gets Eric tossed into lockup.

 

They all get in position, biding their time until Eric’s voice hisses over the comms.

 

“Ain’t no way Domino’s boys are any of the guys they got locked up down here. There’s maybe a dozen people. Some drunk. Some got busted turning tricks. Two low-rung dealers. Three teenagers who looked scared as shit. I got one, maybe two guys I’d guess could work for Domino. Either they ain’t here or-”

 

“Or this is a set-up,” Felicity finishes in a rush. “Providence, heads up. You’ve got-”

 

Amelia doesn’t hear the rest of it. 

 

The hair on the back of her neck rises and even with the voices shouting in her ear, she spins with her sword out. She slices through the air and the blade collides with an attacker’s gun. The clash of metal on metal is deafening, immediately drowning out everyone’s realization of what’s happening.

 

It’s a whirlwind of slow motion after that, parries and strikes made between heartbeats. 

 

One masked man closes in on her, then two more with another emerging from the shadows behind them. She doesn’t stop to think, doesn’t pause to work out the odds against her. This is survival, one slash of her sword after another, aiming to buy herself time. But it’s not enough, she quickly realizes, and it doesn’t take her long to recognize why. She’s got four of Domino’s boys focused on her, with nobody there to back her up. The team had spread themselves out. They’d thinned themselves too much. With all the carefully crafted protection at Amelia’s side day in and day out, they finally messed up here.

 

A burst of fear wallops her heart, flooding her with adrenaline. For a quick second, her grip on her sword falters. But it’s only an instant before she levels herself out. 

 

She can do this. She’s trained for this, damn it.

 

Gritting her teeth, Amelia fights for her life.

 

“Above you!” Will roars in her ear. It’s the only thing that breaks through the haze in her head and she dives to the side, skinning her arm against the building’s brick wall as she narrowly avoids a gunshot from above.

 

She gapes as asphalt sprays up where the bullet hits the ground. God, if she hadn’t moved… 

 

“I’m on the roof,” Oliver announces, as the sound of fighting echoes down to her. 

 

That gives her the slightest bit of breathing room, but it only lasts a fraction of a second. She’s injured some of her attackers, but not enough to keep them down, and they’re closing in. Amelia squares her shoulders, gripping her sword tightly, slipping out the dagger from her thigh with her other hand. She flips through strategies and plans like an old-fashioned card catalogue, looking for something - anything - that might give her a chance at surviving this. Her eyes dart around, weighing her options, trying to predict what will happen with each action.

 

There are too many possibilities, though, too many alternatives, and absolutely no time. 

 

With a wild cry, Amelia attacks.

 

She stabs the closest man in the thigh, using her own momentum to swing into two other attackers. They fall back and she rips her sword free, tearing through the man’s muscle. He screams as he crumples to the ground. 

 

 _Stay down!_  

 

Amelia doesn’t pause, spinning in time to block the last attacker’s attempt to slam the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The force of his arm comes down on hers, radiating through her bones. She cries out, shoving past the pain to throw him back as hard as she can. It’s not hard enough, not nearly, but it gives her the space to drop and knock his feet out from under him. The other two are back, flanking her, one grabbing her sword arm, the other pulling back to punch her. It’s pure instinct that has her dagger hand coming up and slicing the man straight up the middle. It’s not deep enough to gut him, but the razor-sharp blade still cuts through him like butter and he screams from behind his soulless mask as a ribbon of red spreads out against the fabric of his shirt. 

 

She doesn’t have time to feel, to think, to react. She just moves, kicking the knee of the man still holding her arm. He grunts, and she does it again, jabbing her fist into his throat. It’s enough to loosen his grasp and she yanks her arm away, stepping back to spin in a tight circle, her sword coming down on his shoulder. It cuts through the muscles, to the bone, and she wrenches the blade back before he falls to the ground on a cry.

 

She’s got this. She can do this. She can hold her own until backup arrives. She can…

 

A shot rings out.

 

She barely has time to process what she’s hearing before it hits her square in the chest.

 

The force of the bullet slams her backward into the brick wall. It knocks the air out of her lungs, sending little shockwaves radiating through her chest that have her gasping for air. Her hand flies to the spot where the shot hit her, right at the bottom of her sternum. She shoves her fingers against it to ease the ache and try to force herself to breathe. 

 

Bulletproof armor saved her life. The technological improvements to the design keep it thin and malleable so it sits directly under her suit, and it’s so effective she knows on a logical level it won’t leave anything but a horrifying bruise. 

 

It still hurts like a bitch, but she’s alive.

 

And someone is _screaming._ It tears into her with even more of a punch than the bullet did. It’s gut-wrenching and terrified. Will’s screams of her name have panic flooding her system even more than the fact that she just got shot.

 

She gasps his name, but she can scarcely draw air into her lungs, and it comes out as little more than a whisper. 

 

And, she’s surrounded. Domino’s boys have recovered enough to form a loose circle around her, bloodied and broken as they are. And the man who shot her, the one with a gaping hole from her sword in his thigh, has his gun leveled right at her face.

 

_Shit._

 

“Look at me! Will, look,” Felicity snaps through the comms and half of Amelia’s attention gets tugged to that as she pushes against the wall to stand straight, eyes bouncing between the men. “Breathe. Hey, hey. You’re okay. She’s okay. Bulletproof armor, remember? She’s okay.” Her voice gets a whole lot louder. “Arrow, you need to get them all out of there now. Right now.”

 

“We’re here.”

 

The sound of arrows flying reaches Amelia’s ears just as Jules’ chain whip appears out of nowhere. It winds around the wrist of the man holding a gun to Amelia’s face and then he’s gone, as Tempest yanks him so hard it wrenches his arm out of its socket. He goes down again, and Oliver’s arrows slice into two of the other men, knocking them off their feet. From the opposite direction, a volley of darts downs the remaining man who, now that Amelia isn’t fighting for her life, she realizes is nearly twice her size.

 

Ellie and Jules edge in from the shadows.

 

She’s safe.

 

_Thank God._

 

All the adrenaline leaves her in a giant whoosh and she slumps back against the wall, her body caving in on itself. Her face twists with pain as she covers the spot on her chest that the bullet collided with again, staring down at her fingers to reassure herself that there’s no blood coating them.

 

“You good?” Jules asks Amelia as she immobilizes the man she just took down. She doesn’t bother being gentle about it, pulling on his destroyed shoulder and using his own jacket to bind him. Amelia winces, opening her mouth to say something, but then one of the other men lurches to his feet to attempt an escape. Even though there’s an arrow sticking out of his calf, he makes it a decent distance before skidding to a stop when he finds Alex and Sara waiting for him. They box him in, forcing him to stumble back toward his fallen friends. Jules tilts her head, eyes on the man as she coils up her whip again. She spares Amelia another glance. “ _Providence_. Are you good?”

 

“I’ll live,” Amelia groans. Ellie’s at her side in the next instant, helping her to stand straight.

 

It’s good enough for Jules, who stalks toward the man who’d just tried to run. In the blink of an eye, her whip is out again and she swings it at him with a vicious crack. Her precision is incredible. The arrow-shaped tip of her whip splits the mask he wears into two clean pieces that fall to the ground with a clatter, revealing his face. He jerks back with a cry and falls to his knees.

 

“You’re hunting my people,” Jules says as she cracks her whip at him midair. All the blood drains from his face. “And that’s really pissing me off. So, you and I are gonna have a little _chat_ before we march you and your buddies into that building behind me to turn your asses in to the SCPD.”

 

“Tempest?” 

 

Digg’s voice seems to come from everywhere at once and Amelia looks up to find him standing with Oliver atop the precinct building looking down on the scene.

 

“I’ve got this,” Jules assures them both. “The five of us can handle this. No one else is tracking. Right, Overwatch?”

 

“No signs of anything on the cameras,” Felicity replies. “I expanded the radius. There’s a robbery in progress on 97th. Other than that, I’ve got squat. But... Brother left.”

 

“What?” Amelia asks, shoving off the wall. “Where’d he go?”

 

“Home. He said he was going home.”

 

“Spartan?” Amelia looks up at the looming figures. “If they don’t need me here, any chance I can catch a lift? I’m pretty sure I’m needed elsewhere right now.”

 

Spartan and The Arrow glance at each other, having one of their silent conversations that she can’t follow. They make a formidable sight and it feels oddly right for them to be up there, watching over the younger team.

 

“You don’t want to be here for the interrogation?” Oliver asks. He speaks slowly with all of his attention honed in on her. “These men tried to kill you. They’re hunting _you.”_

 

The probing nature of his question comes off more as a father than as The Arrow right now, and she knows he’s making sure she understands what she’s getting into - both by leaving and by what she’s asking to run toward.

 

She doesn’t even have to think about it.

 

“Honestly?” Amelia lets out a pained laugh. Her chest aches for it, but that’s nothing when she remembers the sheer terror she heard in Will’s voice just minutes ago. “Right now, I don’t even care. I need to get to him.”

 

“Tempest?” Oliver asks. “You guys good?”

 

“Yeah,” Jules replies, glancing back at Amelia with a gleam in her eyes that Amelia won’t think about until much later. When she does, she’ll wonder if it was pride. “We got this.”

 

“Okay then,” Digg says. “You got it, Providence. On my way down.”

 

The second she gets the approval to leave, the emotions Amelia had been barely staving off rush in. She doesn’t feel the aches of her bruised body. She doesn’t even feel the impact of the bullet against her suit anymore. Her heart pounds for Will, her mind racing, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and concern.

 

Did he have a flashback? Is he okay? Why did he leave? What the hell is she supposed to do?

 

She doesn’t know. She just knows she has to try. She has to find him.

 

With one last nod from Jules, Amelia hurries back to the van to meet Digg. She doesn’t take the time to look at the men on the ground. Domino and his henchmen aren’t even an afterthought right now. She does want the mobster taken down and she wants the hospital built more than she can say. But those are _wants_.

 

She _needs_ Will to be okay, or at least something close to it.

 

Her comm is clicked off the second she gets into the back of the van. The interrogation would just be a distraction and the sort that would make her uneasy, at that. Jules and Oliver have everything well in hand. They’ve got Lyla and Sara and Alex and Ellie with Felicity in their ears. They’re good.

 

But Will… Will has no one right now. He’s alone and he probably needs support. 

 

“Might wanna change,” Diggle offers from the driver’s seat.

 

His voice snaps her out of her thoughts, but she didn’t hear what he said. “What?”

 

“Storming up to his apartment as Providence would make a hell of a statement, but I’m pretty sure his neighbors would notice.”

 

“Oh. Right,” she says, moving to dig through one of the bags of street clothes they keep in the back of the van. She spots her phone first, though.

 

 _AP: I’m okay. I’m coming home_.

 

She lingers for a moment, waiting for a reply, but nothing comes.

 

_AP: Honey, please say something. I just need to know you’re alright. Talk to me._

 

Nothing.

 

The silence leaves her hands shaking. She grits her teeth, telling herself to stop thinking the worst things possible as she turns away from Digg to change. She only bothers with her top. Her leather pants are a bit strange, but nobody’s going to spot them and think, _“Aha! A vigilante!”_ The corset is a bigger giveaway. It can also be a bitch to get off sometimes, especially in a moving vehicle.

 

“Goddamned corset,” Amelia growls, working at the laces behind her back. “What the hell was Cisco thinking with this design?”

 

“Pretty sure he was thinking he’d like to see you in a corset,” Digg deadpans.

 

Amelia scowls over her shoulder at him, because it’s true. She manages to get the top off when they’re just a block from Will’s place. She hastily grabs the first shirt she spots and tugs it on. It has to be one of Jules’, she thinks, because it’s way tighter than appropriate, particularly considering she didn’t bother to locate or put on a bra.

 

She doesn’t care.

 

“You decent?” Diggle asks, staring at the road as he parks.

 

“I am,” she confirms, tugging the shirt further down before pulling her hair out of the collar. She goes to grab the door handle. “Thank you.”

 

“Amelia,” Digg says sharply. His tone has her freezing and looking back, her chest constricting that something might be wrong, that there’s a new problem, that she might not make it to Will. Diggle raises an eyebrow. “Mask?”

 

“Oh,” she breathes, reaching up to her face to carefully tug off her disguise. “Right.”

 

“Don’t race too fast,” Digg tells her, stepping out of the van as she vaults from the back. She pauses long enough to grab her purse and immediately starts digging for her keys as Diggle rounds the vehicle. “You got a whole gang out for you. I can keep you safe, but my knees can’t take those stairs like you can anymore.”

 

Amelia bites her tongue. She doesn’t want to wait. She wants to get up there _now_. But she knows he has a point and she also knows if someone is waiting for her, she doesn’t want to get killed because she didn’t stop to think.

 

Still, anxiety skitters across her skin and she knots her hands together with unspent, nervous energy.

 

Everything moves far slower than she’d like, but it actually lets them move casually enough that they don’t get any funny looks as they make their way through Will’s building. When they reach his hall, she can’t help but pick up the pace to get to his door. Diggle can see her. It’s fine. She’s close enough. Her hands shake as she tries to get the lock open and even then, she can’t move fast enough. Amelia growls. Why she feels like everything’s in slow motion is beyond her, but it’s frustrating as hell.

 

The door finally swings open and she freezes.

 

Will stands in his living room, eyes wild, his hands visibly trembling. He’s ashen, his hair yanked up in every direction like he’s been pulling at it. He goes as still as she does when he spots her. The instant his eyes meet hers, the pressure in the room skyrockets. And, for a second, she’s not sure what he’s going to do.

 

Amelia swallows hard and gingerly steps inside with a soft, “Will?”

 

Her voice seems to shatter the air and before she can comprehend what he’s doing, Will stalks toward her. He crosses the room in four large steps and grabs her face, crushing his lips to hers. She lets out a startled squeak as the force of his actions has them falling back, colliding with the wall next to the door. He shoves her up against it, kissing her with bruising ferocity. He shakes, pressing his body against hers, surrounding her as much as he can, like he needs to prove to himself that she’s here with him.

 

“I’ll just, uh… make sure the place is secure.”

 

Some part of her registers that Diggle is there, but she barely hears him.

 

Will kisses her with a desperation she feels in her bones. She gets that. She needs it too, she realizes, kissing him back just as hard as the fear she hadn’t let herself feel earlier finally hits her. 

 

Amelia lets out a sob, grabbing his neck and shoulders, clinging to him.

 

The sound has him pulling back to look at her. Worry and terror meld with the panic that still lives in his eyes. She nods, reassuring him - _I’m okay, I promise_ \- and his gaze roves over her, needing to see it for himself. He barely moves away, but his hands slip down, his touch fraught and uneven as he explores her. His eyes follow his hands, watching his every move with furtive gasps.

 

It’s only when he reaches the spot where the bullet hit her that he pauses.

 

A tiny, anguished sound falls from deep inside him.

 

“I’m okay,” Amelia assures him, running her hands over his face, into his hair. “I’m okay.”

 

Will doesn’t say a word. He just bows his head, staring at where his hand lingers.

 

Diggle reappears and she barely brings herself to tear her gaze away from Will. For his part, Will doesn’t even look up. He’s too focused on her.

 

“You’re good,” Digg tells her. “I’ll see myself out. Just lock the door behind me, okay?”

 

She manages a nod. The second the door clicks shut behind him, she reaches over, blindly locking the deadbolt and tugging the chain lock into place as best she can. It’s in there. It’s good enough.

 

And then it’s just them.

 

Seconds tick by and Will’s shaking only gets worse. He presses his hand against her chest, insistent and hard, like he’s trying to rewind what he saw. Amelia bites her lip to keep from whimpering, her eyes fluttering shut as his movements dig into the bruise already forming. It’s sore, and it’s only getting worse now that the shock of it is starting to fade, but she doesn’t make a sound. She just holds him, cradling his head, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his hair. The depth of his feelings overwhelms her, bringing tears to her eyes. His terror is palpable, his need so raw and obvious, shaking her to her core.

 

He chokes out her name and she holds him tighter.

 

“I’m here,” she whispers into his hair. “I’m okay, I promise.”

 

“Yeah,” Will rumbles, pressing his hand closer. His fingers dig into her sternum before he slides his hand up the center of her chest. He lifts his head and Amelia pulls back to look at him, but he cups the side of her neck and slants his lips overs. It’s softer than the kiss he greeted her with, but no less intense, and she feels it all the way to the soles of her feet. He wraps her up in his arms again, his hands spreading out across her back, folding her up in him. She gladly lets him. There’s nowhere else she’d rather be. He grips her tightly, his kisses turning to soft, chaste touches as he breathes out another unsteady, “Yeah,” against her lips.

 

Amelia cups his face and gives him a lingering kiss before easing him back.

 

The harsh edge of panic has abated, but only a little. He isn’t staring at her like she might disappear any second, though, and she holds onto that as tightly as she holds onto him. She smooths her fingers over his face, brushing one thumb over his cheek, the other just under his eye. His eyelids flutter shut and he leans into her touch.

 

“Did you have a flashback?” she asks in a near whisper.

 

Will swallows hard, not looking at her as he gives a tiny nod. It’s so small she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been holding him.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

 

“No,” he croaks.

 

Amelia presses her lips together to keep her emotions at bay. His honesty means more than he can know. “Okay,” she says, stroking his cheek. “It’s alright. No one’s asking you to be okay right now.”

 

“I had to…” He looks at her, the vulnerability in his eyes making her heart ache. “I had to get out of there. I had to…”

 

“You needed to remove yourself from the situation.” She nods. “I get that.”

 

“I, uh… I’ve never wanted to kill someone before,” he admits, his voice breaking. She frowns in confusion, not following until it clicks. _The man who shot her_. His face crumples, his eyes dropping to stare at the wall. “Never understood how someone could do that. Not even when it was my dad. But I… That gun went off and the way he… How he acted, how… Anyone who can look at you like your life is an annoyance they can erase with the click of a gun is... It... I…” He swallows hard, the look in his eyes shifting. “The, uh… The flashback didn’t last long. Shorter than normal. I think part of me was so scared for you that my head wouldn’t let me stay there. I just… I had to go.”

 

Amelia digs her teeth into her tongue, fighting the urge to give into the tears building in the back of her throat. The idea that he has _normal_ flashbacks, that there are variations of them that he can so casually refer to… It fills her with such a helpless feeling that she isn’t quite sure what to say right away. But she’s also so damn glad that he’s giving voice to some of this. 

 

 _Finally._  

 

He’d endured reliving his own near-death experience and the entire time he wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. Either situation on its own would be overwhelming, but to have both at once?

 

“S-so you came back here?” she finally asks, tears thickening her voice.

 

Will nods again. His hands start moving, seemingly of their own volition. He swallows hard, his eyes focusing on his hands as they map her body. He touches her everywhere he can reach. It’s not sexual, exactly, even as his fingers trace the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. She feels like he’s making sure she’s whole, and precisely how he remembers her.

 

“I needed to get away,” he murmurs. “Go somewhere safe. I had to stop seeing it.”

 

“Me getting attacked or you getting shot?”

 

Pain creases his face again and his mouth opens to reply, but nothing comes out. She can see the memories resurfacing in his head, see him fighting them, and that damn helpless feeling hits her all over again. She can’t face the horrors he’s experiencing. She can’t help him fight them.

 

“What do you need?” she asks, running her hands a little too desperately over his face. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I don’t wanna drink,” he breathes, his voice cracking as his hands freeze on her hips. His fingers dig in, damn near bruising her, and she realizes he _had_ wanted to. That’s part of why he’d come here. Whisky’s as much an escape to him as retreating home. Her eyes dart past him, spotting the bottle sitting on his coffee table. 

 

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “Good. That’s good.”

 

“But I need… something,” he admits brokenly.

 

It’s subtle, but the way he touches her changes. His eyes focus in the span of a blink, zeroing in on hers, nailing her in place. Her breath catches. His gaze instantly drops to her lips, his pupils blowing wide, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. A burst of heat erupts in her core, spiraling out so hard and fast that it leaves her legs feeling weak. His hold on her tightens as his eyes trail down her body. God, she actually _feels_ it and she can’t smother the whimper that slips out or hide the way her nipples tighten, beading under the stupidly tight shirt.

 

“ _Amelia_ ,” he grits out. His fingers bite into her hips, like he’s trying to keep them from wandering against his will. He squeezes his eyes shut and leans into her, his forehead finding hers. “We… We shouldn’t do this.”

 

He’s right. She knows that. Sleeping together now would only confuse things between them even more. And, as much as she would do anything at all for him, sex isn’t the best replacement for alcohol as an escape from reality. But she’s not nearly as strong as he thinks she is. She craves him on such a fundamental level that she physically _aches._ She needs him constantly, in every possible way. But today, it’s compounded by the realization that she could’ve died less than an hour ago, that a mobster still wants her dead, that all of this could be over in the blink of an eye. Desire whips through her with a viciousness that leaves her gasping for air. It’s been so long since she’s had him like this. _Here_. _With her_.

 

“We shouldn’t,” she echoes, breathlessly, digging her fingers into his face, holding him to her. He whines at her touch, leaning even further into her, and she suddenly just does not _care._ At all. Amelia pushes him back enough to look at him from under heavy eyelids. “After today. We shouldn’t do this after today.”

 

That’s all he needs to hear.

 

Will’s on her before she can even blink, his lips demanding as he pins her back against the wall again. He plants his feet between hers, tugging her hips flush against him. A heady rush of arousal soaks her panties at the press of the growing bulge in his jeans, and Amelia groans at the familiar pressure of his body against hers. He seizes the chance to tilt his head and deepen the kiss. All she can do is feel and hold on, her head spinning at the onslaught of his passion. 

 

He pulls back, teeth nipping at her lips before his mouth finds the underside of her jaw.

 

A shiver wracks her entire frame. He knows exactly what to do to unravel her. From the beginning, he set her nerves alight with sensation, but he knows her body now, and the familiarity amplifies absolutely _everything_. Desperate cries fall from her throat as he works his way down her neck. Desire and lust and _love_ clash in her chest, tightening it to the point of pain. The emotions churning inside her are almost too much. Their movements are quick and hard, desperate and uneven, but there’s something achingly intimate about this, too.

 

They’re survivors. People who’ve fought for their lives and have to live with the battle wounds. This feels like the joint defiance of a world that would rob them of everything if it had its way.

 

Will tugs at her shirt as his beard scrapes along her neck.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” she hisses.

 

He grunts as he tries to pull up her too-tight shirt. The primal noise has her nipples tightening even more, tingling with need, but all the shirt does is roll up. It’s a minor miracle she got it on in the first place.

 

She thinks about helping, but Will pulls back before she can so much as move. Hips pinning hers to the wall, he leans back enough to look her dead in the eye before he grips the neckline of her shirt with both hands and _yanks_. He rips the shirt in two, right down the middle, and she gasps at the shock of air against her bare breasts. But that’s nothing compared to when he dips down a little to grasp the back of her thighs and he hoists her up against the wall so he can close his lips around the peak of her left nipple.

 

“Oh _God_ ,” Amelia moans, her head falling back against the wall with a thud. She wraps her legs around his waist and grips his hair to keep him right there. The hot, wet draw of his lips, the way he rubs the tip of his tongue against her brings a vibrancy of sensation that sings along the surface of her skin.

 

She’d almost died, took a bullet to the chest, and here he is making her feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

 

He must be thinking the same thing, because he hoists her up even more, blazing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her chest until he reaches the spot where the bullet hit her. He presses his lips to the reddened splotch of skin and she lets out a pained sob as an aching arc of need cuts through her.

 

She doesn’t want him to linger, not right now. Right now, they’re _alive_ and she wants to _feel_.

 

“Down,” she urges, tugging at his hair. He looks up with seeking eyes, not understanding what she’s saying. “For a minute,” she clarifies. “You can’t rip my pants off, too.”

 

For a second, she wonders if he’ll take that as a challenge, but he lowers her back to the ground. The second her feet touch the carpet, he reaches for the closure of her pants. She goes for his fly, too, her fingers fumbling with urgency. She manages to get the button open, but it’s taking too damn long, and she finally just gives a solid yank, pulling the denim and his boxers down his hips. She shoves them to the floor as he gets her leathers undone and starts peeling her pants down her hips.

 

“Boots,” she reminds him breathlessly.

 

He curses and crouches down to get her shoes off as fast as he can. He tosses them aside and pulls her pants down with a few sharp tugs, his nails raking over her skin. She barely feels it, kicking her pants and panties away the second she can. He finds his wallet and by the time he’s standing, he has a condom in his hand. She’s barefoot, clawing at his shirt to tug it over his head as he tears through the condom wrapper, dropping it to the floor between them.

 

Will rolls the condom over his length and before she can process how they’re going to do this, he’s lifting her back up and pressing her up against the wall again.

 

He guides himself to her entrance and thrusts deep inside her.

 

“Oh…! Oh _yes_ ,” she whines, her eyes fluttering shut in relief as he fills her. It’s so good, so _right_. He starts a fast, mindless rhythm, losing himself in her arms, thrusting into her with so much force the picture frames rattle a few feet away. “ _Will_ …”

 

He groans at the sound of his name from her lips. He presses his forehead to her shoulder as he drives himself inside her. She holds on, one hand buried in his hair, the other gripping the upper edge of the door frame for stability. She shuts her eyes, her head falling back, just letting herself _feel_. He keeps his face buried in her neck, chanting her name as he grips her thighs hard enough there will be fingertip-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

 

They both have so much adrenaline and so many feelings close to the surface that it doesn’t take long for things to build to the breaking point.

 

Any other time, this wouldn’t have been enough for her body to find its release. Any other man in the world wouldn’t have been enough either. But this is _Will_. Her senses are in overdrive, her love and need and desperation for this man damn near choking her with their intensity, and she’s been aching for his touch for days.

 

He adjusts his hold on her and even though there’s no discernible difference, he somehow hits her at exactly the right angle after that. She groans, sobbing his name as her hand goes from his hair to his shoulder, her fingertips digging into the wings of his angel tattoo as she seeks better leverage to work herself against him. The heat of his breath against her shoulder stops for a second as he inhales sharply, his thrusts growing erratic. 

 

Her orgasm hits her right in the middle of it. It’s a shock of sensation that sets her body alight as a burst of firecrackers races along her skin. It overwhelms her, leaving her clinging to the rush of perfection long enough that she misses Will’s orgasm completely.

 

When she finally starts coming back down, he’s still buried deep inside her. His ragged exhales  dance over her sweaty skin, mirroring hers as she tries to catch her breath. His face is hot where he’s pressed against her shoulder and his body starts to shake slightly from supporting her up against the wall.

 

“They can’t have you,” he rasps, his hold tightening on her thighs. “I can’t lose you like that.”

 

His words echo of the open wound she carries inside her and she blinks away tears before they can fall. Will moves then, kissing her shoulder before shifting and slipping out of her. Neither of them speak as he lowers her back to her feet. Her legs are completely useless, but he doesn’t step back like she expects. Instead he stays close, supporting her until she stabilizes herself.

 

And then, on her nod, he steps away.

 

“You don’t have to lose me at all,” she tells him before he gets too far. He pauses, his eyes darting to hers before he ducks his head. A burst of frustration has her pressing her lips together. Like he feels it, he looks up at her. Amelia stares at him for a beat. “You _don’t_ , Will. I’m telling you that from the deepest parts of my soul. But we also can’t do this again. Not like this. We both needed it after today and I don’t regret it, but I want more for us than a panic-fueled fuck against a wall when things go bad. I want that house you told me about. I want that big yard and the life you described. And, Will, you’re the one who taught me not to settle for anything less than everything.”

 

He nods, a faint sense of nostalgia creasing his brow. “You should have everything you want, Amelia. All of it. I just wish that I was the man who could give it to you.”

 

“Will,” she breathes, shaking her head. She steps up to him again and cups his chin. “Maybe I wasn’t specific enough. There’s _no one_ else I want in that house with me. You’re part of my everything. And I’ll be here as long as it takes until you realize that I mean that.”

 

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t tell her she’s wrong either. 

 

They don’t talk as they clean up and find fresh clothes, but it’s not an uncomfortable quiet. There’s a hesitance about him again, but the distance between them feels less like a chasm than before. She’s not sure what to make of it, but it’s definitely better than how it was earlier, and she’ll take anything she can get.

 

When she comes out of the bedroom, freshly showered and in her own clothes, she finds Will frowning at his phone.

 

Her heart drops. “What? What is it?”

 

“I missed your texts earlier,” he replies. He looks up at her, a line of confusion pulling at his brow. “These were right after the fight? You came straight here?”

 

“Of course I did,” Amelia replies. “I heard your voice on the comms. I heard how Felicity reacted. This was where I needed to be.”

 

The look on his face would be funny if it wasn’t such a reflection of how little he values himself.

 

“Amelia, you’d just been shot.”

 

“I know. And you needed to see that I was okay.”

 

He doesn’t know what to do with that. He blinks at her before looking back down at his phone as if the answers to his unspoken questions might pop up right before his eyes if he stares long enough.

 

Before any can, though, Amelia’s phone buzzes in her pocket.

 

_NQ: Can you meet me at headquarters, please?_

 

She frowns. “We need to get to the lair,” she says just as Will’s phone chirps. He holds up his cracked screen to show a similar message.

 

“Come on,” he says, reaching his hand out for hers. 

 

For a second she thinks he might pull it back, but he waits patiently until she places her fingers in his. He does it again when they reach the bunker. This time, she doesn’t hesitate, but she does bite her lip to keep a smile at bay when his hand curls around hers. She’s content to hold on for as long as he’ll let her.

 

When they walk into the lair, he’s still holding her hand…

 

Until he spots who waits for them. Then, his fingers go slack, falling away from her as he freezes.

 

“Nate,” Amelia says, her voice low and cautious. “What the hell is she doing here?”

 

Across the room, Moira Queen stands at her youngest grandchild’s side with her head held high. The careful blankness on her face serves as a stark contrast to how tightly she clutches her purse in front of her like a shield. She’s designed for elegant, stately surroundings. With a backdrop of vigilante suits on their mannequins, she couldn’t look more out of place if she tried.

 

Holding her breath, Amelia glances at Will, stretching out her fingers to brush against his as she waits for him to say something. He doesn’t look at her, but he does twitch his hand toward her, hooking his pinky around one of her fingers.

 

It isn’t until she catches movement from the corner of her eye that she realizes Oliver and Felicity are there as well. They stand by the conference table, Felicity’s face a study of pure, quiet fury and Oliver’s glare damned near murderous. 

 

It only softens after he glances at his oldest, concern shining in his eyes.

 

“Did you bring her here, Nate?” Will finally asks, his voice deceptively soft, putting two and two together as he glances between his little brother and estranged grandmother. The underlying hint of betrayal tells Amelia there’s a world of difference between running into her at a gala and being ambushed by her presence in a place she knows Will considers a sanctuary.

 

“It’s important,” Nate replies. He shuffles his feet and licks his lips before tilting his chin up in a stubborn display of certainty.

 

It might’ve worked had he not looked like the mirror image of the woman next to him.

 

Light chatter between Jules and Ellie echoes from the locker room, only to cut off abruptly with a harsh, “What the fuck?” from Jules. Judging by the look on her face, Amelia’s surprised the words aren’t accompanied with flames. “What the hell is she doing here?”

 

Moira purses her lips, but that’s the only tell she allows.

 

“She has information,” Nate insists. 

 

“That does not answer my question, Nate,” Jules says, every word barbed as her glare switches to her brother. “What is she doing _here_?”

 

He frowns. “She… She said it was important.”

 

“Oh?” Jules replies, her eyebrows flying up. “So anyone who says they have important information gets an automatic invite to the lair?”

 

“No,” he argues. “That’s not… That’s not what’s happening.” He doesn’t seem to know who to implore to listen to him. He shifts between Jules and his dad before looking to where his mother stands with her arms crossed. “Mom, I didn’t bring her here for a visit, I swear. She has information you need to hear.”

 

“And how’d she know to go to you with this information, Nathaniel?” Felicity asks, casting him a stern look before turning a severe glare on Moira. “How did she know that you’d answer her call?”

 

Moira squares her shoulders. “Felicity, this is not-”

 

“I was speaking to my son,” Felicity interrupts, her voice ringing through the lair. Moira’s mouth snaps shut, her face pinching slightly, but she doesn’t add anything else as Nate pales, looking very much like a kicked puppy under his mother’s censure.

 

“She’s…” Nate stops and shrugs. “She’s my grandma.”

 

“And she’s my mother,” Oliver says. “But I refuse to let someone who belittles and treats one of my children like they’re somehow _less_ than family be part of my life. I had hoped you’d show the same consideration for your brother.”

 

“Yeah,” Jules adds sarcastically, “considering she basically disowned him.”

 

“Guys,” Will starts.

 

His tone is too soft to be heard over the raised voices of his family, but Amelia hears him. She glances his direction to find his eyes flying around the room with the same look he’d had after reading her text messages earlier. It’s the look of someone who doesn’t understand why so many people are coming to his defense, the look of a man who doesn’t understand why they think he’s worth it. 

 

Amelia shifts her hand closer, curling her fingers around more of his. Even if he pulls away now, he needs to know that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere, and that he _is_ worth it. He pauses, looking down at their hands before looking at her. The smile she gives him is small and imploring.

 

 _You are not alone_ , it says.

 

When he laces his fingers with hers, she thinks he sees it.

 

“This isn’t about Will!” Nate insists. “Yeah, I’m not… I’m not great at picking sides. I don’t understand how to just cut family off like that. But this isn’t about Will, okay? It’s about Amelia.”

 

“What?” Will asks, his head snapping to Nate as his grip tightens. “What about her?”

 

Moira steps forward and Will’s eyes dart to her. “Contrary to what you may choose to believe,” she starts only to be interrupted by Jules’ snort. She looks at her granddaughter before letting her gaze touch on every member of the Queen family. It settles on Will. “I am not here to cause problems. I asked Nathaniel to bring me here because I did not want any wayward ears listening to what I have to tell you.”

 

Bugs, Amelia realizes, her mind darting back to when Moira had come to her apartment.

 

“I’ve swept every inch of our houses,” Felicity informs her, coming to the same conclusion. “There aren’t any bugs.”

 

“Regardless,” Moira replies, her eye finally settling on Amelia. “This is too important to take chances.”

 

“Then start talking,” Will orders.

 

“I had a visitor earlier this evening,” Moira says. “He claimed to be a representative of the man you call Domino.”

 

The entire room tenses. Amelia stops breathing, her stomach bottoming out. Uneasiness fills the lair, and her eyes dart to the side to catch as Jules tenses and Oliver bristles like he’s readying for an attack. She feels it, too, the instinctive urge to prepare herself. Domino’s boys haven’t been able to get her on the streets. So, now they’re going after the people she knows. First Thad, now Moira. How long before it’s someone she really cares about? Before it’s Jules, or Oliver, or Felicity? Before they set their sights on someone she loves like Will or her mom? Or attack someone who can’t protect themselves like Maggie and Deedee or even Bethy?

 

“Excuse me?” Will asks, his voice low and deadly.

 

“I didn’t see his face because he wore the same mask all of Domino’s men wear,” Moira continues. “He was armed, large and imposing. I have no reason to doubt he’s precisely who he said he was.”

 

“You’re okay?” Ellie asks softly. When Amelia glances at her, she catches the young woman’s gaze shifting to her mother, expecting censure much as Nate had gotten. But there’s nothing except quiet contemplation on Felicity’s face as she scrutinizes her mother-in-law.

 

“I wasn’t the one he was threatening,” Moira replies.

 

“Me,” Amelia says. Everyone’s eyes fly to her, as Will’s fingers close so tightly around hers it hurts. “He came to you to threaten _me_. Why?”

 

“He said you must already be aware he knows precisely who you are,” Moira informs her. “He asked me to relay that this means he has an advantage where you do not. He said if you can be reasonable, all of this can go away. He’s willing to offer you a truce, in spite of his losses. On one condition.”

 

“That I don’t testify,” Amelia finishes.

 

Moira tilts her head in tentative agreement. “I’m afraid that’s not all, though.”

 

“You said there was _one_ condition,” Will says, the words coming out close to a growl.

 

“There is,” Moira agrees, looking to Will. “But there’s also retribution if she chooses to refuse his offer of amnesty. If she testifies in court, he will have her unmasked and arrested for vigilantism during the trial.”

 

“He can’t do that,” Will argues. “He doesn’t have proof.”

 

“Oh, but he does,” Moira counters. “A man like Domino does not make a move like this without ensuring he has all of his chess pieces in place. Coming to me was a tactical choice, William.”

 

“It shows he knows who all of us are,” Oliver says. “It shows he can get to any of us at any time.”

 

“Yes,” Moira replies, her voice cracking slightly. It’s the first sign of emotion she’s given all night as she looks at her son. “He’s not playing around, Oliver. If I were you, I’d take this very, very seriously. If you don’t, the best case scenario is that you all wind up behind bars for the rest of your lives. But the worse case scenario… That is considerably less pleasant.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wrist/hand is no better, so please forgive short replies again. I have an occupational therapy appointment in two and a half weeks. Fingers crossed for after that. I have far too many stories in my head to slow down now. Bought an ergronomic keyboard and mouse yesterday so hopefully that helps in the long run too.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, guys! It's a long one and things are about to ramp up big time after this! <3

The air in the room shifts when Moira leaves. It’s tangible. But while Moira might take the bulk of the tension with her, what she leaves behind is a chaotic mess of voices and opinions overlapping each other as they grow louder and louder.

 

“Is there any _worse_ way you could have done that?” Jules demands the instant the door seals shut behind her grandmother. She glares at Nate, hands on her hips. “Were you even _thinking_ when you invited her into what is supposed to be a _secret_ lair?”

 

“Don’t blame me!” Nate retorts. “While you were tearing fingernails off goons or whatever, I got us actual information that can lead back to Domino!”

 

Ellie holds up a hand. “Nothing she said-” 

 

Anger dominates Jules’ face as she closes in on her little brother, cutting Ellie off with a sharp, _“Tearing fingernails off-”_

 

“And I’m pretty sure we should be more concerned about the fact that Domino knows who all of you are!” Nate continues, talking over both of them, his height lending him an air of authority he shouldn’t have. “Grandma being down here is the least of our concerns!”

 

“How can you be so dense?” Jules snaps as Ellie says, “Okay, that is a problem.” But Jules slashes her hand through the air at her sister, her glare switching between them. “Yeah, great, the bad guy claims to know who we are, but this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. It doesn’t change what she did-”

 

“You think that’s more important than Domino knowing our identities?” Ellie demands.

 

“Thank you, Ellie,” Nate says with a wave at her.

 

“You shouldn’t have brought her down here-” Jules growls.

 

“That’s not-” Ellie starts, talking over her.

 

“ _Hey_!” Felicity barks as Oliver gives a shrill whistle. Silence replaces the clatter of angry voices with a swiftness that leaves Will’s ears buzzing. Nobody moves as Felicity’s glare switches between her three youngest children. “We have a way of doing things, and it is _not_ bickering and yelling at each other. _Especially_ down here. Do you understand?”

 

“Mom-” Nate starts as Jules opens her mouth.

 

“Do. You. Under. Stand?” Felicity repeats, officially using her Loud Voice. It has the desired effect because all three of them immediately stop, jaws snapping shut even as their anger simmers.

 

“Yes,” Jules grits out.

 

Ellie nods, but Will can’t help noticing how she rolls her lips together, unable to hide her quiet delight at seeing the focus of Overwatch’s censure on Jules instead of her. It reminds him just how young she really is. 

 

Nate’s another story altogether.

 

“I’m not even part of this stupid team,” he says. “I’m here for _family_ , not Team Arrow. So, I brought Grandma down here with some information to help you guys. So what? Sorry if you don’t like the source, but that doesn’t make her any less useful. I did the right thing and you guys know it. So, stop treating me like I brought some supervillain over for family dinner!”

 

He really is confused, Will realizes. By the time he was born, Will had already been a teenager. All Nate’s ever seen of his grandmother and brother interacting are a grown man and an old woman with ancient grudges between them.

 

“Nate, it’s not as simple as that,” Will says. 

 

“It’s exactly as simple as that,” Nate retorts. “The only ones making it complicated are you guys. So she did some awful things like thirty years ago. And she messed up by hiding that you existed from Dad. It’s not like you never met him. It’s not like you didn’t grow up with him anyways. It’s been, like, twenty five years! Are we really gonna just shut her out entirely because of that? Is that the kind of people we wanna be?”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Nathaniel,” his father says in a voice that’s all sharp edges. Nate’s nostrils flare, his jaw clenching. “You are way off base. We’ll talk about this later.”

 

“Fine,” Nate says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine. I’m sorry for being helpful and trying to keep Amelia alive. My bad.” Will flinches at that, the words hitting him hard. Nate catches the reaction. His eyes sharpen as he points at Will. “If it were Yvette, I wouldn’t care who came to me with information. But then again, I’d do a lot of things differently than you.”

 

His tone sets off a warning bell in the back of Will’s mind. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Nate nods at where Will’s fingers still tangle with Amelia’s. “Are you guys back together?” he asks. Amelia’s fingers go limp in his, but Will tightens his grip on her hand. “Or are you still pushing her away even though she’s right in front of you? Do you have _any_ idea what I’d do to have my girlfriend on the same damn _continent_ as me? You’ve been in love with Amelia for as long as I can remember - she’s living in your _house_ , and you’re still acting like there’s an enormous wall between you keeping you apart! You take it for granted and it’s driving me nuts because some of us would kill to have the chance you have right now, and you’re wasting it!”

 

Will’s jaw drops. His head spins, trying to understand how they got from Moira’s warning about Domino to _this_. He shakes his head. “What… I… Are you _jealous_?”

 

“Of the chance you’ve got?” Nate asks. “Hell yes. You’re so sure she’ll leave, but she’s done nothing except stay by your side while I keep _begging_ my girlfriend to take an internship somewhere in the U.S. just to have her closer for a little bit. But instead she goes to Thailand. So, yeah, Will, I’m jealous of the chance you’re wasting. And I’m not the only one.”

 

Will jerks, his eyes widening incredulously and Nate gestures at Ellie in response.

 

The blonde merely raises an eyebrow, biting her tongue between her teeth as she looks away.

 

“What?” Will asks Ellie. What is _happening_ right now? None of this makes sense. If anyone could relate to the complexity of his relationship with Amelia, he’d have thought it would be Ellie. “What is he talking about?”

 

Ellie purses her lips, keeping her gaze averted, unwilling to speak. But the tension radiating off her nearly says enough.

 

“Talk,” Oliver orders and Ellie’s eyes swing to their father. There’s a hint of betrayal, but it’s buried behind a wall of her anger. The intensity of it stuns Will, but Oliver is more prepared. “You two obviously have things to say and you’re going to say them now before it disrupts this team even more. So _talk_.”

 

Ellie sets her jaw before finally looking at Will. “She fights for you,” she finally says in a quiet voice. “She doesn’t back down even when you push her away.”

 

Will blinks as the picture suddenly clears up. “Like Sara did with you.”

 

She bristles, splotchy red coloring her cheek. “She’s annoyingly perfect,” Ellie adds, looking at Amelia.

 

“I’m…” Amelia’s mouth works soundlessly as she shakes her head and Will tugs her closer without even thinking as she finishes, “I’m not.”

 

“You walked into the lair and demanded a spot on the team,” Ellie scoffs. “Suddenly you’re Team Arrow’s darling who’s gifted a mask and given everyone’s trust inside of a few months? I’ve fought for that my entire life. I’m _still_ fighting for that. But here you are, charming everyone with a sad story and a flash of a smile. Will falls at your feet. Everyone risks their lives to keep you safe for _months_ on end. What makes you so special? What makes you so important that you get welcomed with open arms from day one?”

 

“Stop it,” Will snaps as Amelia shrinks away. The move is slight, but he knows her, he knows she’s curling in on herself for protection, and it only fuels the irritation coiling tight in the pit of his stomach. “Your bitterness is _ugly_ , Elizabeth. Her being accepted has nothing to do with the lack of trust we have in you. Maybe if you focused more on following orders and less on trying to pick apart other people, that wouldn’t be a problem in the first place.”

 

Fire sparks in Ellie’s eyes and she steps forward, but Jules snags the arm of her jacket. “He has a point,” Jules tells her. “You know he does.”

 

Ellie jerks her arm away with a glare. “Of course you’d take his side. You’ve _always_ taken his side.”

 

“None of this is about sides, Ellie,” Jules replies, her voice surprisingly even and controlled. It almost has Will doing a double take, because a couple of years ago she would have gone to blows with their younger sister instead. It’s remarkable how much she’s grown, how much she’s settled into her own skin.

 

The same cannot be said of Ellie.

 

“Easy for you to say,” Ellie retorts. “You don’t have your own sister telling you that you’re a screw-up. Have you ever once considered taking my side? I’m your _sister_. God, you wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for me.”

 

Felicity’s sharp inhale echoes through the room as the color drains from her face.

 

But Jules commands everyone’s attention with a short, dry laugh. Her gaze hardens where it’s fixed on Ellie. “That honor falls to the _other_ Ellie,” Jules reminds her. “And despite your best efforts, you are _not_ her.”

 

Ellie jerks back as if Jules had slapped her. “Fuck you, Jules,” she grits out.

 

“Elizabeth,” Oliver says in warning.

 

“Whatever,” she snaps. “I need to go. I have work to do. Nate, you want a ride home?”

 

“I’d love one,” he replies, crossing the room to join her. Nobody misses the disappointed look he casts at Jules, or the tired sigh she gives in response.

 

They start to walk out together, but Felicity follows after them. The click of her heels on the ground has them both pausing, their shoulders tensing before she’s even said anything. “Yeah, I’m not done with you two. You will both be over for dinner tomorrow night to talk about this.”

 

“Is that my mom talking?” Nate asks, turning to face her. “Or Overwatch’s orders?”

 

The hurt look that skates across Felicity’s face has Will stiffening, but that’s nothing compared to Oliver. Will’s positive Nate just made things a hundred times worse with their father without meaning to. Even during their most difficult moments, Nate has always relied on his mother and treated her with unfailing amounts of respect.

 

“Both,” Felicity replies softly. “Because I’m always both, Nate. There’s no difference. Your mom _is_ Overwatch. I don’t know how you’ve never gotten that.”

 

“Maybe I just didn’t want to,” he answers, his face tightening as he looks down at her.

 

“That’s enough, Nate,” his father says in a hard voice, stepping up behind Felicity as she looks away from their youngest, her lips pressed into a thin line. Oliver’s hand settles on her back as he says, “You heard your mother. Dinner. At the brownstone. Five pm sharp.”

 

“Yeah,” is all he says.

 

“Both of you,” Oliver reiterates as he looks at Ellie.

 

“Fine,” she replies.

 

For Will’s part, he’s surprised either of them felt like they had a choice in the matter. If he’d dug his heels in and refused to come, Will’s pretty sure their parents would’ve gone to him, whether he liked it or not.

 

He watches Nate and Ellie as they leave, neither of them saying another word. 

 

The silence that follows weighs on everyone left in the room.

 

When the hell had this gotten so _messy_? They don’t do this. Not like _this_. But it feels like everything was brought to a boiling point all at once for the four siblings. How long had it been simmering? How long had this been just beneath the surface with Nate? With Ellie?

 

How long had he been harboring his own bullshit?

 

Too long. The thought has him huffing out a breath of strained frustration. None of this feels sudden, even if the revelations are.

 

Amelia tugs on his hand slightly and he glances at her. She gives him a smile that asks, _‘Are you okay?’_ His gut reaction is to plaster on a grin and insist he’s fine, that he’s sorry she had to see that, that everything will blow over soon enough. But he doesn’t do any of that. And he doesn’t regret having her here with him. So much is up in the air between them, but that doesn’t change that when he thinks of her, he thinks _family_. He’s grateful she was here.

 

Will gives her a half-shrug as if to say, _‘So-so.’_  

 

 _‘Yeah,’_ she mouths back with a little nod.

 

“Oliver,” Felicity whispers, her voice breaking as it pulls Will and Amelia’s attention back to his parents.

 

“One crisis at a time, honey,” Oliver murmurs, rubbing her back before gripping her shoulder and tugging her to his chest.

 

She nods absently, her eyes trained on the closed door as she lays her hand over his where it rests on her shoulder. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Remember when the biggest problem with them was Nate crying because Jules took some of his Halloween candy?”

 

“No,” Oliver replies with a soft, affectionate smile that’s all for her. “Because I remember that the week before that Ellie declared herself a superhero at school and punched a bully on the playground. And Jules yelled that we always let Nate have the best candy because we like him better. And Will got busted in the backseat of his car with a girl at school.”

 

“Uh…” Will clears his throat, scrunching up his nose and turning a little pink as he glances at Amelia. She just shakes her head at him with an amused smile that has him shrugging in response.

 

“The stakes are higher now,” Oliver continues. “And the feelings run deeper. But it was always a little crazy.”

 

“Maybe,” Felicity agrees. “I just always thought they’d have each other’s backs when they grew up.”

 

“We do,” Jules replies. Oliver and Felicity turn back to them as Jules moves to stand next to Will. She offers him a hesitant smile. They’ve barely spoken since he snapped at her and Alex a few days ago. God, it feels like so much longer than that. A twinge of regret hits him for that argument now, even if it came from an honest place. He smiles back at his sister, and she relaxes slightly before looking toward their parents. “Just maybe not all four of us at once. But we’ll be okay. Arguing or not, we have each other’s backs. I’d fight to the death for any of them, if I had to. And I know they would for me, too.”

 

For a jarring moment, their father looks his age. Oliver rubs at his eyes and sighs with a bone-deep exhaustion that goes well beyond being physically tired. In that instant, he’s not The Arrow. He’s not even Senator Queen. He’s just a father trying to hold everyone together while they do their best to pull themselves apart. 

 

“Right, one problem at a time,” he finally says, taking a deep breath and looking up, suddenly seeming far more put-together. Oliver tilts his head as he turns his gaze to where Will stands with Amelia. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.”

 

All eyes fly to Will and he shifts under the sudden scrutiny. But when Amelia tightens her hold on him in support, he flashes the room a brief smile.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “I needed some time. I wasn’t avoiding you. Well, not _you_ specifically, anyway. I was kind of avoiding… everyone.”

 

It makes sense in his head, but Will can’t help wondering if he’s making it all sound worse. His father nods and gives him a gentle smile. “Don’t ever apologize for doing what you need to do for yourself,” he says. “You texted. We knew you were okay and that we’d talk eventually. I admit, it isn’t what Felicity or I would’ve chosen-”

 

“Or me,” Jules chimes in.

 

Oliver slides her an impatient look. “But we respect that sometimes everyone needs space. Even from the people they love the most.”

 

It takes effort not to look at Amelia when his dad says that. The instinctive pull to turn to her tugs at Will like gravity. But he keeps his eyes fixed on his father, even if he catches Amelia turning to look at him out of the corner of his eye, her gaze burning against his skin.

 

“I appreciate that,” Will says. “I just had some things I was trying to figure out.”

 

“And did you?” Oliver asks.

 

Will pauses. The same knee-jerk reaction he’d felt with Amelia a moment ago nearly takes over and he almost assures his dad that everything’s fine. That _he’s_ fine. But he’s not, and the thought of putting up that front feels exhausting. Plus, he’s certain that no one would buy it anyway.

 

“I’m working on it,” he says instead.

 

Approval colors his father’s face. “Good,” he replies. “That’s good.”

 

“Yeah,” Will agrees before licking his lips and swallowing hard. Part of him is waiting for a judgment that never comes, for some voice to emerge telling him he’s selfish and ridiculous, that he has no reason to feel the way he does, to shut up and get over it. But instead he’s met with nothing other than acceptance. On a logical level, that makes sense. But emotionally it makes him a little unsteady. 

 

The urge to crack a joke to get the attention off of him is overwhelming, but he bites his tongue against it as another thought fills his head.

 

Maybe the only voice telling him he’s overreacting and selfish is his own.

 

Maybe that’s always been true.

 

“You scared me earlier,” Felicity admits quietly. “During the mission. When you…” 

 

She trails off and glances up at his father, as if seeking permission to give it a name.

 

“When I had a flashback,” Will offers, the words scraping out his throat. “You can say it.”

 

A glow of what looks like respect and relief fills her eyes, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. He swallows hard, but then Amelia presses a kiss to his shoulder in silent support, offering her love as a pillar of strength. She’s unfailing in that, he thinks, a constant source of stability. He just wishes he could feel like he deserves it, like he isn’t dragging her down into the darkness with him.

 

“When you had a flashback,” Felicity echoes, giving him a warm, maternal smile. “I wanted to be there for you, to help you through it. But we hadn’t talked about it and I didn’t know how.”

 

“You needed your focus on the mission,” Will counters, shaking his head. “Amelia needed you.”

 

“She did,” Felicity agrees. “But you’re my son, Will. I love you so much, and seeing you hurting hurts me, too. It’s my job as your mom to protect you, even if I’m protecting you from the monsters in your head. And I feel like I failed you because I didn’t know how to do that today. Samantha would’ve bitten my head off for that.”

 

Oliver snorts in agreement, sharing a look with his wife.

 

Will frowns. “I thought you guys got along?”

 

“Oh, we did,” Felicity agrees. “Because we both loved you so much. And we both wanted the absolute best for you, no matter what. You always brought out the best in us, Will, and you unified this family in so many ways. I don’t think you’ll ever understand quite how much.”

 

He stares at her for a beat, wondering where all of this is coming from before it clicks.

 

Will’s eyebrows twitch as he looks at Jules. “This is because of what I said to you the other day, isn’t it? About Moira. About not being wanted. That’s why we’re having this conversation, right?”

 

Jules shrugs, throwing her hands up and looking away.

 

“Oh my God, Julianna,” Felicity says in exasperation. “How is it even possible that you - a vigilante - are this bad at lying?”

 

“It’s Will!” Jules protests, her voice oddly high-pitched. “I can’t lie to _Will_. That’s like lying to myself.”

 

“Look, I can’t deny that Moira did a number on me,” Will admits. “You all know that. Sometimes when I’m feeling down already, that gets worse. I know her rejection of me wasn’t _your_ rejection of me. You’ve both proven that over and over again. You have since I was six. And you definitely have by cutting her off. That meant a lot to me when I really needed something to hold onto. But I’m not gonna hold it against Nate that he couldn’t do the same. I wouldn’t even hold it against you if you wanted to reconnect with her. Especially you, Dad. She’s your mom. It’s not like she’s young. I know what it’s like to lose your mom before you have a chance to make amends. I wouldn’t want that for you.”

 

A somber look takes over Oliver’s face and he sighs.

 

“I know she apologized to you at the fundraiser a few months ago,” his father says. “I heard it over the comms. But it was with all of the pridefulness I would’ve expected. You might accept that from her, but I want more. She wronged my son and refused to see how and why. I’ll be glad to hear her apology for that when it’s outside of her comfort zone. Until then, I’m at peace with my decision to cut her off. But I do appreciate you being the bigger person here and giving me the go-ahead to choose another way.”

 

There’s a hint of pride in his father’s voice as he says the last part. It’s heartening to know how much his dad is on his side, even if he’s not sure it’s warranted. She had apologized, and even if it came across as a bit weak, Will doesn’t doubt that she meant it.

 

“Okay,” he says. “But if she comes by with information to protect Amelia again, maybe we could be a little less… battle-ready.”

 

Felicity puckers her lips as she crinkles her nose. “Her being here did sort of throw us all off.”

 

“I’m always battle-ready,” Jules adds with an unapologetic shrug.

 

“Yes, you are,” Oliver tells her, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tug her into him. “You’re a very good little vigilante.”

 

Jules glares up at him. “Are you knocking on my height, right now?”

 

Will rolls his eyes with a smirk. She’s like a violent baby panther sometimes. All claws and teeth, but tiny and absolutely adorable to the point where you do want to tease her about it. Even as she threatens to cut you while you do it.

 

He kinda wants to pat her head.

 

“Don’t do it,” Amelia murmurs, catching his eye. She knows him so well. He raises an eyebrow and she does the same, which only has him smiling at the challenge. She shakes her head. “Will Queen…”

 

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

 

“You were going to.”

 

“If I got in trouble for every impulse that crossed my mind, you’d have me in the doghouse constantly,” he teases. The flirty words come out easily, without thought, and it’s the first time in weeks that things have felt so light between them.

 

Her answering smile lights up the whole room.

 

“ _Ugh_ ,” Jules groans. “Gag me.”

 

Will snorts, giving her a look. “As fun as that sounds, we should get back to what Moira said.”

 

“I can’t take Domino’s offer,” Amelia tells him, her smile slipping away. She stares at him for a beat before looking around the room. “You have to know that.”

 

“Yeah,” Will says with a resigned sigh. “I expected as much. But it might give us some breathing room if he thinks you’re going along with it.”

 

“Maybe,” Amelia replies. “But either way I wouldn’t count on him to keep his word.”

 

“Neither would I,” Will agrees. “But I’ll take anything and everything that’ll work in our favor right now.”

 

Amelia nods before looking at Jules. “What did we get from his men today?” There’s a note of hesitation in her voice that Will’s certain comes from her reservations about the team’s methods of extracting information. 

 

“Very little,” Jules replies with a dark scowl as she slips back into work mode. “Despite Nate’s assumptions, I don’t pull off fingernails. That’s disgusting. I can smack them around with my chain whip a bit, but…”

 

“But you’re not great with torture,” Will finishes, marveling a little at how thoroughly Jules noted and replied to Amelia’s unspoken statements without making things confrontational. “Forgive me if I’m not sad about that.”

 

“Lyla called in some favors with ARGUS and got them taken into custody for a more thorough… debriefing.”

 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Amelia asks with a wince. Her eyes dart between Oliver and Jules. “It’s still torture. I’m not comfortable with it no matter who’s doing it.”

 

Jules’ face is carefully neutral as Oliver holds up a placating hand to Amelia. “I know,” he replies. “But when you deal with the people we do, things get messy. It’s not pretty. Rules get bent or even broken. When the stakes are high, sometimes there’s no good choice and the morality of what we do gets very gray.”

 

For all her insistence on taking down Domino and getting the hospital built, Amelia lives her life by a set of moral rules and guidelines, and this doesn’t sit well with her. Will feels certain that it never will.

 

“Where are we on the IDs of the men getting paid off?” Will asks Felicity.

 

“It’s about one quarter good news and three quarters being screwed,” his stepmom replies. “Most of the names were aliases. I’m trying to follow the money trails on the others, but it’s incredibly complicated and there are a lot of them.”

 

Worry has the hair on the back of his neck rising. “Beth’s back in town _tomorrow_.”

 

“I know.” Felicity sighs, trading looks with his dad. “We talked to David and we’ve arranged for John to put a few men on both Beth and David at all times. I know it’s not ideal, but…”

 

“But it’s the best option,” Oliver finishes for her.

 

It’s unsettling knowing Beth’s coming back and they’re no closer to having her off of Domino’s radar. It’s even more unsettling for Will to realize that his presence would probably put her in even more danger.

 

“Okay,” he agrees, even though it’s far from the kind of solution he wants. His shoulders sag. “Man, I owe Digg and Lyla. I’ll have to find a way to pay them back…”

 

“No, this isn’t on you,” Oliver says. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Samantha’s daughter because I haven’t been able to track a mobster and take him down. She’s your sister, but this is my responsibility. I’m paying Digg’s employees myself.”

 

“Dad…” Will protests.

 

“This isn’t about you, Will,” his father replies. “I’m paying. It’s already set up. End of story.”

 

It rubs Will the wrong way, but he relents. “Alright. Thank you.”

 

“Good,” Felicity announces. “That’s good. I mean, it’ll cut his staff a little thin when Amelia goes back to her apartment, but-”

 

“Wait, what?” Will interrupts, his head jerking to her so fast that it damn near gives him whiplash. “When she what?”

 

Felicity hesitates. “Well, the police are nearly done with her place, right? Tomorrow, I think is what they said. So… She’ll have the all clear to go back home. I just figured…”

 

“That’s not-” Will starts in a panic before cutting himself off. His mind spins at the very idea of Amelia being back at her own place… At being away from him. He knows how he sounds, but he doesn’t care to stop himself. “I mean… Wouldn’t it be a better idea for her to stay where she is?”

 

“With you, you mean”? Jules asks, looking thoroughly amused.

 

“Yeah,”  he agrees, seeing no humor in it at all. He looks to Amelia. “With me.”

 

She chews at her lower lip without saying a word and a different brand of panic hits him.

 

“I’m just… Your things are there, right? And it means you have someone there overnight with you. And no one died in the living room.”

 

“And you’re there,” Amelia adds. “Does that get to be one of the reasons, too?”

 

“I’m…” Will stops, holding his breath. The racing of his heart sends his thoughts spinning even faster. He knows what he wants and he knows what he wants to say, but he’s not sure how to find a medium between the two. “I’ll just feel a lot better knowing you’re only a room away.”

 

An inscrutable look crosses her face. “A room away…”

 

“A room away,” he confirms. Will stares at her, willing her to understand - _Until I figure this out. Until I can find a way to be the man you deserve. Until I can feel like I deserve the way you look at me._ “For now.”

 

She searches his eyes and he thinks she sees everything he can’t say out loud just yet because she gives him a tiny, but beatific smile that makes his heart skip a beat. “Okay,” Amelia says softly, squeezing his hand. “For now.”

 

They don’t talk about how long _for now_ constitutes, but the promise of it is enough. 

 

_For now._

 

She heads home with him when the others head out, Jules to join Alex back at their place and his parents, undoubtedly, to have a long involved talk about how to handle the situation with Ellie and Nate. He doesn’t envy them the task. Nate can have a hard time adjusting his perspective once he’s made up his mind and Ellie’s bitterness about her role on the team has been there since before she even joined it. Those are things they’ll all have to deal with in time.

 

But not now. Now, Will has other concerns.

 

It’s a foreign feeling to not have the urge to rush to fix his siblings’ problems as best he can. But they’re also things he _can’t_ fix for them. And besides, Will has enough crises in his own life that need attention.

 

He expects a rush of guilt with that thought, but it never comes.

 

Is it because Amelia’s safety is at the crux of this? Or because Beth is involved? Or is this just what it feels like to prioritize himself? He loves Ellie and Nate as much as he always has, but they can’t have all of him. Not this time.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Amelia asks.

 

Will blinks, focusing his eyes on her. He wonders if he’d been staring off into space for a bit, his gaze fixed sightlessly on the faucet of his kitchen sink. He offers her a playful half-smile and a quirk of his eyebrow. “Maybe they’re worth more than that.”

 

Amelia smiles back. “They usually are.”

 

How anyone can look at her and not see how amazing she is, he doesn’t have a clue. How anyone could look at her and make the choice to strangle or shoot her, he doesn’t understand. She’s the best part of this world. He’s sure of it.

 

“I should start dinner,” Will says, shaking off his thoughts. “Salmon sound okay?”

 

“Sure,” she agrees. “Mind if I do some laundry?”

 

“It’s your house, too,” he says without thinking. When his words register, his stomach flips. In some ways, it’s true. In others, though, he only wishes it was. From the soft sigh she gives, he’s certain she’s thinking the same thing.

 

“Need me to toss in anything of yours?” she asks, biting at her upper lip.

 

“Uh, maybe a towel?” he suggests. “I’m gonna wash the sheets in Beth’s room later.”

 

“Right,” she replies distantly. “Because you’re still sleeping in there.”

 

He moved from the sofa to Beth’s room a few nights ago. The twin-sized bed is far from comfortable for a grown man, and he can’t say he’s a fan of his baby sister’s choice in sheets either. It’s a little creepy lying on top of the smiling faces of the boy band of the moment. But it’s a bed. And it’s one he can occupy alone, which is something he needs right now.

 

“I just…” Will pauses, trying to think through how to say everything in his head. It’s harder than it should be. “Earlier. When you got home after being shot…”

 

“When we had sex,” Amelia finishes.

 

“Yeah. That wasn’t entirely about _us_. It was like… It was like using you to distract myself instead of using whisky,” he admits. An awful, sick feeling settles in his gut as the truth of that hits him. “You were right, what you said earlier. I don’t ever want it to be like that again, either. Not like _that_. You deserve so much more. _We_ deserve so much more. And I don’t want to treat you that way.”

 

Amelia slowly licks her lips, hesitation dancing over her face. “You do remember there were two of us there, right?” she asks. “I needed to feel alive. Nothing about that was one-sided.”

 

“I know,” Will says. “But I also know you were right when you said we can’t keep doing this. I can’t kiss you and push you away at the same time. That’s not fair to you and it’s messing with my head, too. The lines are too blurry. So, I think it’s better that I stay in the other room for a bit. I just… I  have some things I need to figure out how to work through.”

 

She nods, and it’s obvious she’s holding back whatever she really wants to say. Her small smile hurts him more somehow, makes him feel the distance between them more keenly. But he’s doing what he needs to do. For her, but also for himself.

 

“Well,” she says after a moment. “When you figure out how I can help, I’m just a room away.”

 

For the first time, his immediate thought isn’t, _‘Until you’re not.’_ She’s here - she’s stayed - and she’s been steadfast in her insistence that she isn’t going anywhere. He still feels like this is something he should be able to deal with on his own. Being a burden to her is the very last thing he wants. But how many times can she tell him that she wants to be someone he can turn to, someone he can lean on, before he starts believing her?

 

It doesn’t sway him, exactly, but it does get him thinking.

 

“I know where you are,” he says in a soft voice that’s just for her.

 

_Because you’ll be here. You say you’re staying, and I think I believe you._

 

As if she can hear his thoughts, she smiles and when it reaches her eyes, he smiles back.

 

Things are easy after that. 

 

She winds up helping with dinner and they eat side-by-side, trading stories they’ve never told each other about summer camp when they were kids. He washes the dishes while she dries them. After that, they catch up on a few nights’ worth of late-night comedy shows they both like until she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. She’s light when he picks her up and carries her to bed. He lies her down on the mattress, pulling the blanket up around her.

 

“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing her hair from her face. He lingers, stroking her cheek. “I can’t understand why you put up with me, but God, I’m so glad you do.”

 

The temptation to slide into bed with her is strong, but he ignores it. 

 

 _For now_.

 

When he wakes the next morning, it’s to the muffled sound of chatter in the kitchen. He tenses until the owner of the second voice registers. Even if a light tone is relatively new from her, he’d know Jules anywhere.

 

If someone had asked him which of his siblings Amelia would’ve gotten along with best, Jules would’ve been at the very bottom of the list. But the two of them have bred an understanding over the last few months. It’s surprised him, but he’s also grateful. They’re two of the most important people in his life, along with Beth, and it means more to him than he’d have expected that they’re getting along these days.

 

He dresses quietly, not wanting to interrupt them. Amelia’s been under so much stress and there aren’t a lot of people she can really talk to. But when he’s done tugging a fresh shirt over his head, the two women’s voices are closer. They’ve probably migrated to the dining room.

 

He can hear them out loud and clear, and it leaves him stuck with a moment of indecision.

 

Just when he tells himself to not listen in, he realizes they’re talking about him.

 

“... sleeps in later recently,” Amelia’s voice drifts by his ears. “Between Beth being away and not working right now, I guess he just has less of a routine. Maybe we should talk about that, but I feel like there’s so much else going on.”

 

“Do you want to know what I think?” Jules asks, as if there was any chance she’d keep quiet. “Sleep’s an easy escape. And the body lies about being tired when your head doesn’t want to face things.”

 

“I know,” Amelia agrees. Her mournful tone strikes Will right at his center and he can perfectly see her shoulders droop as she rubs her forehead. “But how much can he face at once? I don’t have any experience with this. I have my first appointment with a therapist a few weeks from now. I’m going to ask her questions about how to support Will, too. If he won’t go, at least I can educate myself a little on what he needs.”

 

“Admitting you have a weakness is hard for some people,” Jules replies. “I know my brother. He has a way of seeing himself as somebody who needs to help everyone around him and never recognizes that everyone else feels that way about him, too. For what it’s worth, I think you’re already doing the right thing, just by sticking around and reminding him you don’t want to be anywhere else.”

 

“I really don’t,” Amelia says with a rueful laugh. “I never knew I could be as happy as I am with him when things are good. When he looks at me, it’s like he sees the person I want to be. It makes me feel special and alive. I sleepwalked through life for so damned long, Jules. And I didn’t even see that I was doing it. I can’t sit here and tell you that our relationship is simple or easy. But it is worth it. It is to me, at least. I just wish he felt he same way.”

 

Will wants to burst through the door and insist she’s wrong. Of course she’s worth it. She’s worth everything. But before he can take a step, she starts talking again and his heart sinks at her words.

 

“That came out wrong,” Amelia says. The clink of a coffee cup against the table follows as she gives a huge sigh. “I know he loves me. I know how he feels about _me_. I just also know how he feels about himself. And we’re equal parts in this, you know? I love _us._ But how’s he supposed to love us when he doesn’t even like himself? ...Sorry, I shouldn’t be laying this on you. I just-”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Jules interrupts. A rustle of fabric reaches his ears and Will thinks Jules has reached across the table to squeeze Amelia’s hand. He hopes she has. “I asked how you were doing. Maybe you haven’t figured this out about me yet, but when I say things, I mean them.”

 

“I did get that about you, actually,” Amelia replies on a thin laugh. It’s silent for a moment after that before she continues. “It’s just hard sometimes. There’s no kind of loneliness that’s as bad as the kind when you’re not even alone, you know?”

 

Will shuts his eyes and leans against the wall, resting his head on the doorframe. Knowing that the distance between them is hard on both of them is one thing. Hearing the details of how it makes her feel is another.

 

“Sorry,” Amelia says again with a sniffle. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that much. For some reason talking to you is easy.”

 

“I will freely admit that you’re the first person to ever say that,” Jules replies.

 

Amelia gives a short laugh. The distinct clink of a coffee cup sounds again before she goes on. “I just wish I could do for him what he does for me. I wish I could make him feel as special and amazing as he makes me feel. I just want him to believe in himself the way I believe in him. That’s all.”

 

He’d do that for her if he could, he just doesn’t know _how_. And he suspects doing it _for her_ would be counterproductive. What she wants is for him to believe in himself for his own sake. 

 

It might be the most selfless wish he’s ever heard.

 

He has no idea how to get to that point, but he wants to anyway. He wants to feel like the man she seems to see when she looks at him. For her. For them. And, most importantly, for himself. Because the idea of always feeling like the selfless love she offers him is ill-placed is a notion that makes him want to revolt. He needs his life back. He’s so damn tired of losing, of feeling beaten down and broken. He wants to go back to work, to make love to the only woman he’s ever wanted to commit his life to, to be a better brother and son and friend and teammate. All of those things are pieces of who he is that have gotten lost in the chaos of what happened to him.

 

Living through the horrors he’s endured has left scars. There’s no doubt about that. And they’ll always be there. But he’s more than the things he’s survived.

 

He has to be.

 

Stepping back toward the bed, Will gives a loud, purposeful cough and makes a mild racket with the dresser drawers as if he’s grabbing some clothes. When he emerges from the room a few minutes later, both Amelia and Jules look at him without surprise.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Amelia greets with a grin, eyeing his hair.

 

“Nonsense,” he counters, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I’m not a sleepyhead. I’m quite well-rested. There enough coffee for me, too, or is this a girls-only coffee date?”

 

Jules sits back in her chair and gives him a sly look with a twist of her lips. He just smiles at her. There’s no doubt in his mind that she knows he overheard at least part of their conversation. Considering this is Jules, he wouldn’t put it past her to have orchestrated for him to overhear the whole damn thing.

 

“You can join,” she tells him, holding up her mug. “Provided you refill my cup, too.”

 

“I live to serve,” Will says with a small bow before taking her mug. “Amelia? Can I get you more coffee, too, my lady?”

 

“Your _lady_?” she repeats with a grin. “Well, you woke up on the right side of the bed this morning.”

 

“It’s extremely small and pressed up against a wall,” he counters. “There’s only one side.”

 

Amelia giggles, covering her mouth with her fingertips. As adorable as that is, it’s a real smile and it’s a damned shame that it’s covered up.

 

“Just bring the pot over and join us,” she tells him, letting her hand fall away. He’s stuck in place for a moment, soaking in the joy on her beautiful face.

 

“ _Hello_ ,” Jules says, waving her hands. “You can eye-sex later. This is coffee time.”

 

Amelia blushes and looks down at her cup, but Will takes it as a challenge, locking eyes with his sister instead. “It’s called multitasking.”

 

“Then _task_ ,” she instructs, waving toward the coffee maker in the kitchen.

 

“So bossy,” he mutters.

 

With a wink that she crinkles her nose at, he hands her back her mug before heading to grab the pot of coffee. When he re-joins them, he sits right next to Amelia and pours them all a fresh cup while she watches. What she sees, he can’t imagine. But he wants to see it, too. Because at this point she’s seen the worst of him and she still looks at him like he’s the only person she wants to focus her attention on.

 

“I was thinking I might go for a run this morning,” Will says, looking at Amelia. “Wanna join me?”

 

Her smile is answer enough, but he still savors her words. “Yes,” she replies with soft eyes that sparkle. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

 

It occurs to him that it’s because of him that she’s smiling right now. The notion fills his chest with warmth. Despite everything else, he tries to hold onto that. If he can still make her smile like that, maybe things aren’t quite as bad as his head tells him they are. Maybe - just maybe - he’s better for her than he thinks he is.

 

“Want a bodyguard?” Jules asks over the rim of her coffee cup, eyeing Will with a keen look that sees right through him. “Or would you prefer a bit of alone-time for you two?”

 

Will slides her a look as his lips twitch. This is classic Jules, giving two extremes, trying to force him into saying what she’d like to hear. Unfortunately for her, he’s known this trick for decades now.

 

“I think we’ll be okay on our own,” he replies. “Thank you, though.”

 

Jules hums and lifts her eyebrows at him as she sips her coffee. She looks pointedly at Amelia and back to Will with a blatant, _‘Look at her, you dolt’_ in her eyes. When he does, he finds Amelia biting her lip against a full-faced smile as she stares down at her coffee. There’s no faking that level of happiness. The apples of her pink cheeks glow with delight and that sparkle in her eye is still there when she chances a glance at him.

 

She takes his breath away. And God, if she’s this happy about him suggesting spending some time alone together, maybe he can let himself feel some of that, too.

 

Coffee doesn’t last long. Jules, for all her love of intrusion, knows when to make an exit. And, before long, they’re heading out, too.

 

Will and Amelia hit the pavement side-by-side, heading in the general direction of a large city park at a brisk pace. He’s still intensely aware of their surroundings, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. But Digg’s people have had his place under surveillance and this run had been unplanned, both of which add a touch of security and ease his worries. Before long, he finds himself relaxing to the steady beat of their feet against the sidewalk.

 

It’s nice, the sort of thing he can see them turning into a routine. It’s simple and it’s _them_ , sharing a morning of easy companionship. And the exercise is good for him. It leaves him feeling a little more like himself, a little less foreign in his own skin.

 

Amelia slows when they hit the park, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and hair frizzy as it defies her ponytail. 

 

“Lemonade stand,” she says with short breaths as she points across the park.

 

Even though it’s still morning, the late July sun beats down with the promise of a scorching day and he has to admit that lemonade sounds amazing. They both pause, stretching out their calves to avoid leg cramps, and then he grabs her hand.

 

“Come on,” he says, tugging her toward the lemonade. She follows easily, falling in step right next to him, close enough that he lets go of her fingers and wraps an arm around her waist, instead. Instinct has him kissing her temple and he doesn’t fight it. This moment is good - great, even - and maybe the trick is to savor things like this when they happen. Especially when she sighs and melts against him, pressing back against his lips. They’re both sticky, but he doesn’t care in the least. The salty sheen of her sweat clings to his lips and he trails after the taste of her with his tongue.

 

He doesn’t let her go, when they get in line behind a group of kids.

 

“Thank you for this,” Amelia says, giving him a quiet smile.

 

“Lemonade seemed like a good idea,” he replies.

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

So much that he wants to say sits on the tip of his tongue. _I want to figure this out. I want to keep this. I think I’m getting there. I think I’m finally starting to see how it could work, and your patience makes all the difference_. But he just smiles at her, hoping she reads it all on his face.

 

“Strawberry or regular?”

 

Will’s eyes snap back to the lemonade stand and the bored-looking teenager running the register. He’d sort of forgotten where they were for a moment.

 

“Strawberry, please,” Amelia replies. “Biggest size you’ve got.”

 

“I’ll take regular,” Will adds, digging out a couple bills. “Also a large.”

 

The kid smacks her bubblegum and takes the cash from Will’s hand, going through the motions of her job. She plops their drinks onto the rickety bar with a monotone, “Thanks, come again,” before looking past them to the next person in line. “Strawberry or regular?”

 

Will leans in to speak directly against Amelia’s ear in a hushed voice. “As summer jobs go, you’d think she could find something that didn’t suck her soul out quite so much.”

 

Amelia laughs around her straw. She takes a healthy gulp of her sweet drink and shrugs. “She makes a good lemonade, though.”

 

“Yeah?” he asks. “Can I try a sip of yours?”

 

“If you wanted strawberry, you should’ve ordered it, Will,” she teases, stopping to face him. His hand is still on her waist, leaving a scant few inches between their faces.

 

His heart pounds at her nearness and the anticipatory tension thickening the air. Amelia’s always stunning, but there’s something about right now that has his mind spinning. She’s breathless and flushed, sweaty and honed in on him. It reminds him of every time he’s watched her break and cry out his name in bed.

 

“Maybe I only want some ‘cause it’s yours,” he murmurs, soaking her in.

 

Her pupils dilate and she licks her lips. His eyes drop and he notices a tiny bit of strawberry that she missed on her bottom lip. He zeroes in on it as his free hand moves to cup the back of her neck. Her breath catches when she realizes what he’s doing, but he’s already leaning in.

 

She nearly drops her drink when he presses his lips to hers.

 

Will moans softly at her taste. She’s the perfect mixture of sweet and salty and _Amelia_. He can’t help taking his time, working his lips against hers, savoring her as she melts against him.

 

For as wrong as things seem sometimes, they’re always right when she’s in his arms like this. It’s unifying, grounding him even as it sends him soaring to the clouds. He just needs to find some way to believe that he deserves this kind of perfection in his life, because, _God_ , he wants it. He wants _her_. And there’s no question whatsoever that she wants this, too.

 

“Oh,” she breathes when he pulls back. Her eyes are still shut and she licks her lips like she’s trying to keep the taste of him on her tongue. He sighs at the sight, and when she blinks at him in a slow, dazed way, he wants to kiss her all over again. “Will… What are we doing?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replies, sliding his hand up to her cheek. “But I want to figure it out.”

 

The statement is a promise and a pause button all in one. He wants so badly to be in a place where they can do this all the time, where he can offer her more than fleeting moments. They’re not there yet. _He’s_ not there yet. But the promise is. And she reads him well enough to understand that.

 

“Okay,” Amelia says, turning a little to kiss his palm before stepping away. “Let me know if you need help figuring it out, then.”

 

The distance isn’t much, but it’s necessary. Still, he has to remind himself to keep his hands off of her. “I love you, you know,” Will says. “It’s not about that. It’s never been about that.”

 

She gives him a sad smile. “I know that. You just need to figure out that you deserve my love in return. I’ll be here when you do.”

 

That’s a little bit more insight than he’s ready to welcome, even if it’s comforting knowing she understands where he’s at. Will looks away, taking a sip of his drink. The lemonades make for as good an excuse to stay silent as they had to kiss her. They start making their way across the park, both content to stay in the comfortable bubble of quiet that grows between them. When their hands brush against each other, she laces their fingers together. He smiles around his straw, but he still doesn’t say anything.

 

“Hey!” she says, tugging his fingers and grinning at him. “There’s a ballgame.”

 

Sure enough, a pair of little league teams are battling it out. He follows in Amelia’s wake, soaking in her excitement as they close in on the baseball diamond. When they reach the fence, he stands at her back, wrapping his arms around her. He can’t help but check their surroundings for threats before letting himself relax and watch the game.

 

It’s Amelia’s cheers for the kids that really pull him into the moment, though. It doesn’t seem to matter what game she’s watching, little league or college or professional, there’s something about baseball that brings her to life in a new way.

 

“This is nostalgic,” Will says, resting his chin on her shoulder and watching as a kid who looks a little younger than Beth manages to hit a grounder toward second base. “I used to play at this field.”

 

“You did not!” she gasps, her head jerking toward him. “Seriously?”

 

“Yep,” he replies with a grin that’s one hundred percent because of her exclamation. “Right about that age, too. A couple of decades ago, that could’ve been a mini-Will sliding into first.”

 

“Bet you were adorable,” she says, reaching back to stroke the nape of his neck. “With that grin of yours and grass stains on your uniform.”

 

“I really liked sliding into base, too,” he remembers. “Even when I didn’t need to. Drove my coach nuts, but kicking up the dirt was fun.”

 

“Mhmm, you were one of _those_ , were you?”

 

“I might’ve enjoyed making a production of it,” he admits.

 

“Of course you did,” Amelia says, shaking her head. “I was too much of a rule-follower for that. Even when I should’ve slid, I didn’t. My dad kept trying to get me to, but I was so nervous.”

 

There’s a faraway quality about her that has him quieting his voice as he asks, “He was your coach? Your dad?”

 

“Yeah,” she replies. “When I was young, at least. Never seemed to matter to him if we won or lost. He cheered us on all the same. I was the one who got competitive and had to win. But looking back, those games with my Dad were the best ones, even when we lost. I wish I’d known that at the time.”

 

Will presses a lingering kiss to her shoulder. “I bet he knew. I bet those memories were the best for him, too.”

 

“I like to think so,” Amelia says. “He was a great guy, my dad. You’d have liked him.”

 

“I’m sure I would have,” Will agrees, because he has no question about it. The way Amelia talks about her father is with such fondness that Will can’t imagine not liking the man.

 

“He’d have liked you, too,” she adds. Will hesitates a second too long at that, not as certain as she is, and she pulls away far enough to look him in the eye. “He’d have liked how you support your family and how you care for me. He’d have loved seeing me learn to take a few risks and slide in the dirt if it’s the only way to make it to base. Sometimes life gets messy when you fight for what you want. It took me far too long to understand that. He’d have liked knowing I found someone worth taking chances for.”

 

Will swallows hard, searching for a response. But she’s not waiting for one. She didn’t say all of that to force a reply. She said it so that he’d _know_ it. And that’s obvious when she looks back to the field and cheers for the kid at bat.

 

“My mom didn’t want me to be a firefighter,” he blurts out. Will’s not even sure why he’s saying this or where he’s going with it, but it needs to be said. Amelia looks back at him with curious surprise, tuning out the game in favor of him. “We were arguing about it just before she died. Everything was… I didn’t take to Bethy well at first. Or to David. I resented both of them and I was just so annoyed at my mom. And then she was gone. She was gone and Beth almost followed her and David was broken. Everything changed in a heartbeat.”

 

Amelia squeezes his hand in support, saying nothing as she waits for where he’s going with this.

 

“I wish she could’ve known that I’d get it eventually,” Will continues. “That I’d understand it was all because she was afraid for me and just wanted me safe. Because I do. I get that now. I look at Beth and I’d do anything to keep her safe. I look at you and… I just want to know you’re gonna be okay. I worry about you every time you go out with the team. Hell, I worry about you when you walk out the door at all these days. But it’s not that I don’t want you to live your life or fight for what you believe in. It’s that I can’t imagine dealing with this world without you in it.”

 

“You grew up, Will,” Amelia points out. “She’d have known you would. You were so young still when she died, just barely turning into the incredible man you’ve become since. But from everything you’ve said, she knew you’d understand eventually. And, for what it’s worth, I do, too. We both risk our lives with what we do. That’s terrifying, but it’s also worth it. We came at that understanding from different routes, but we still got there.”

 

“We did,” he agrees. His lips quirk slightly. “She’d have liked you, too, you know. Having someone in my life who chooses me over and over, even when I don’t have it in me to choose myself. She’d have loved you, Amelia.”

 

A sad smile ghosts across Amelia’s lips as she strokes his hair behind his ear. “We both lost them too soon. But they helped shape us into who we are today. So, they live on through us.”

 

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Will replies.

 

“It’s the only way to look at it, I think,” she says. “And they’d want us to be happy. They’d want us to fight for ourselves and take risks worth taking and do what’s right. Remembering that makes everything just a little bit easier.”

 

Maybe that’s true. Maybe he’s been focusing on the wrong things. Lately, when he’s thought about his life, it’s been with a sense of shame. His mother would’ve hated his drinking. She’d have been horrified at him being shot. He can’t even imagine the fight she and his dad would’ve had about vigilantism after that. She’d have been insistent that he not go back to work. But she’d loved him. And maybe he needs to stop thinking about the judgment he’d have felt instead of the compassion and love she would’ve treated him with. Maybe he needs to start thinking about how his father and Felicity and David and all of his siblings and Amelia are trying to do the same.

 

The little league game ends with a dramatic strike-out from a surprisingly good pitcher.

 

Will takes a moment to try and remember what it was like to be eight, to have moments of pure joy over winning a game and being able to leave the losses on the field when he walked off of it. There’s a wisdom in that he seems to have forgotten over the years. Maybe these kids have it right after all.

 

“We should get going,” Amelia announces, tossing her empty cup in a nearby recycling bin. “It’s gonna be too hot to be outside soon.”

 

“Bet you’ll be hotter,” he says on reflex.

 

She groans, rolling her eyes as she bumps her hip against his. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Charmingly so,” he agrees, earning him an adorable snort from her.

 

Amelia raises an eyebrow at him. “Race you home?”

 

“First one home gets dibs on the… shower!” he adds on a laugh as he breaks into a sprint. He thinks he _could_ beat her without the head start, but where’s the fun in that?

 

There’s an indignant, “ _Hey!_ You cheat!” from behind him and he just laughs.

 

He likes to tell himself she only catches up because he can’t stop laughing, but in truth it’s because she’s in better shape than he is these days. She beats him home, but not by much. His determination to keep an eye on her safety is what makes their race as close as it is. It’s almost embarrassing how out of breath he is by the time they’re at the front door.

 

“There are two showers,” she remembers, bending over and resting her hands against her knees as she tries to catch her breath. “I should’ve held out for better stakes.”

 

“I’ll-” He cuts himself off before saying more because she really did give him a run for his money. His head’s spinning a little from the all out sprint at the end. “Lunch... When you get out... I’ll make it.”

 

“Good deal,” Amelia agrees as he finally opens the door. As has become custom, he checks every room before relaxing. She stands in the middle of the living area, letting him go through the motions until he’s satisfied they’re safe.

 

“We’re good,” he announces and she nods as he locks the door.

 

“Peeling this off is going to be a pain,” she says, picking at her sweat-soaked spandex running gear. Her words in combination with her skintight clothes leave nothing to the imagination, and all Will can do is squeak in strangled agreement. Amelia winces. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” he manages.

 

“Ten minutes or less,” she promises, heading to the bathroom. “I’ll leave plenty of hot water.”

 

He hums in agreement, his eyes dropping to watch her ass as she walks away. His mouth goes dry before he grimaces at himself. At this rate, he’s going to need a _cold_ shower. When she’s fully out of sight, he releases a slow exhale and it’s not until the water turns on that he finally moves. He quickly washes his hands and makes them each a sandwich.

 

She’s as fast as promised and she waits until after he’s out of the shower to eat lunch with him.

 

The afternoon slips by smoothly. They do some chores. She makes some calls for work. They settle in on the sofa together to watch a college baseball game. She taps his thigh every time something happens and his arm rests curled around her shoulders. It’s the sort of afternoon that feels simple, that makes him forget how messy his life can really be.

 

Until four o’clock when Beth calls.

 

Chest clenching, Will answers, “Hey B-”

 

“So, I’m back and I know you missed me and I totally need to see Amelia because I know she’s living with you right now. I _know_ it, Will. I’ve been told. So, anyway, I’m gonna ride my bike over and hang out with you guys while you tell me all about how you’re definitely back together now because obviously you are.”

 

Will shakes his head, interrupting her with a, “Slow down there, motormouth.”

 

“Ha. Ha,” she sasses. “Do I need to call Amelia? I should call Amelia. She might want me to bring nail polish or something. She hasn’t had a girl to do that for her in awhile. Obviously I’m needed. Do you need anything from the store? I think I might pick up some candy on my way over because chocolate is needed for girl time. Amelia said so and she’s right about everything. If you haven’t figured that out yet, then F-Y-I, it’s important intel. Just roll with it. You’re welcome.”

 

“Oh my God, stop,” Will blurts out, sitting up abruptly, forcing Amelia to do the same as he yanks his hand back. “No, Beth. No, that doesn’t work.”

 

“Well, you’re _not_ welcome, then. But it doesn’t make me less right.”

 

“Not about that!” he snaps. “You can’t come over here right now, Bethy. You can’t ride your bike to the store either. It’s not safe.”

 

She sighs dramatically. “I’m a tween, Will. A tween with bodyguards apparently. I’m probably the safest kid in Starling-”

 

“I said _no_ ,” he growls, his voice rising. He immediately regrets it, but he also doesn’t stop. “ _It’s not enough.”_

 

“That’s stupid!” Beth yells. She’s never once backed down from an argument and she’s not about to start now. “What are you gonna do? Make me wear a bulletproof vest to go to school?”

 

Well, now that she mentions it…

 

“ _No_ ,” she bites out, reading his silence correctly. “I’m not doing it. _Ugh_ , you’re impossible. I thought Amelia would knock some sense back into you, but apparently I was wrong and you’re still in the same overprotective jerk mode you were in before I left.”

 

Will sighs, dropping his forehead into his hand. “Bethany-”

 

“It’s true!” she shouts. “You yelled at me. You told me to leave. I thought you loved me, but instead you’re shoving me away like I don’t matter. Fine, you know what? Maybe I don’t even want to see you anymore. Maybe I’ll just slip my stupid guards and go somewhere else where I have people who actually care about me.”

 

The very _thought_ of her ditching her guards short-circuits his brain. It’s all he can focus on out of everything she just said, and it’s all he can do to keep from hyperventilating as he stands up with a sharp, “I swear to _God_ , Bethany, if you slip your guards-”

 

“I hate you,” she cries. In that instant, he has no doubt she means it. “That’s what you care about? Keeping me wrapped up in a bubble where I can’t even breathe? Sorry, I don’t want to mope around the house all day and avoid the people I care about, unlike _some_ people. You’re ruining my life!”

 

“Bethany Ford,” Will breathes, his heart racing at a breakneck pace. “If you dare-”

 

“Don’t bother,” she interrupts. “It’s not like you’re my dad. You don’t get to tell me what to do. _Bye_.”

 

“Beth!” he yells. But he gets nothing except dead air in response. “Son of a bitch,” Will growls, looking at his phone to find she’s disconnected the call.

 

“Is she okay?” Amelia asks, looking up at him with heavy concern from where she’s still sitting on the sofa.

 

“She will be if I have anything to say about it,” Will grumbles, finding David’s name.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” she asks. But he doesn’t take the time to answer. Beth comes first - _always_ \- and David answers the phone after one ring. The first noise that fills his ears is Beth having a fit in the background.

 

“Don’t let her leave that house,” Will tells his stepfather without preamble. “She might be willing to risk her life for a manicure, but it is not safe for her out there right now. Do you understand?”

 

“I got it,” David assures him. “I’ll call you later. I have a bit of a meltdown on my hands right now.”

 

“This is important,” Will emphasizes.

 

“Will, I get it, okay?” David replies. “I’ve got her. I’ll talk to the guards, too. Take a breath, son. I… I’ll call you later. I have to take care of this. Bye.”

 

The goodbye Will offers is forced and he’s left with a dead line again. It sends a sense of helplessness running through him that threatens to overwhelm him completely. He throws his phone in the opposite corner of the sofa from where Amelia sits and presses his hands against his forehead. He shuts his eyes, trying to center himself.

 

It doesn’t work. It doesn’t even come close.

 

He starts pacing, his mind speeding through thousands of scenarios he can’t control. He can’t rein in his imagination. Thoughts of Beth sneaking out, of her ditching her guards and coming face-to-face with Domino’s boys swarm his head. He’s seen kids who’ve died before. He knows what her eyes would look like without life in them. The way she’d go hollow and vacant, that precious spark that makes her _her_ gone in an instant. 

 

“No,” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

 

The sound of her screaming that she hates him rings out in his head loud and clear on a loop. Better that she hate him than face something so much worse. But then his mom surfaces in his mind and he can’t help but think about those last stupid arguments that have lasted a lifetime because there was no way to resolve them with her gone.

 

“Fuck,” he growls, shoving his hands through his hair.

 

He doesn’t realize Amelia stood up and followed him until he wheels around and nearly runs her over. 

 

It’s too much.

 

“Will,” she says, her voice cautious but he can hear the alarm in it, too. It matches the panic rising inside him at the images swimming in his head.

 

He shakes his head and shoves past her, going to the bathroom. He slams the door shut behind him, fighting the urge to retch at the pictures painting the walls of his mind. He grips the edge of the sink as hard as he can, his knuckles turning white, the harsh edge biting into his palms.

 

But nothing erases the images.

 

This is his fault. If she goes out anyway, it’ll be _his_ fault. He should’ve handled the call better. He should’ve stopped and thought. He should have protected her better. He should’ve sent her away longer. He should’ve-

 

Will slams his hand into the wall next to the mirror with as much force as he can.

 

It hurts, so he does it again.

 

“Will, talk to me,” Amelia says from the other side of the door. “I need to know you’re okay.”

 

Shame crashes over him, nearly sending him to his knees. He should be able to cope better, damn it. He’s falling apart over what-ifs, and it’s not fair to do this to her. She’s dealing with enough already. She doesn’t need him breaking down on top of it. Not again.

 

“You should go to the lair,” he grits out, his voice shaking. “Get Digg to take you. It’s safe there.”

 

“It’s safe _here_ ,” she reminds him, her voice muffled by the door. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you like this.”

 

Will shakes his head, his face crumpling. “You should.”

 

“Not a chance,” she counters.

 

Her voice is close enough that he’s pretty sure she’s leaning her head against the door. There’s no reason that annoyance should hit him at that, but it does. The instinct to hide himself away where he can fall apart on his own overrides reason for just a moment. 

 

But as quickly as it does, a rush of fear hits him, too.

 

Will opens his eyes and stares at his reflection. His hair is a wild mess, his eyes wide and panicked, ringed with red and fear. His sallow skin highlights the stress lining his face.

 

“I don’t want to be like this,” he says.

 

Silence greets him, and he’s not sure if he wanted Amelia to hear him or not.

 

“Good,” she finally says, and the quick, relieved breath he takes answers any questions he had. “That’s really good, Will. Talk about that. Talk about… About what you _do_ want to be like. Let’s focus on that.”

 

The old daydream of them with a full house somewhere in the suburbs flits through his mind, but that’s too big right now. It’s too far away, so much so that it feels unachievable. A faint stab of panic hits him at that, but he shakes his head at himself. It’s always either-or with him, and he doesn’t want either-or. 

 

He wants more. 

 

Will takes a deep breath and starts small instead. He grips the countertop as he slides down to the floor, scooting to lean back against the door. This is easier, he realizes, to talk like this. He leans his head back, closes his eyes and starts answering.

 

“I want everything to be a little more manageable. I don’t want to be afraid all the time. I want to feel like I can stand on my own when things get hard again instead of being a burden on everyone.”

 

The shuffle of fabric on the other side of the door settles as she sits on the ground along with him. 

 

“I could tell you a million times that you’re not a burden,” Amelia says, “but that wouldn’t make you believe it. It’s something you need to see for yourself. Everyone has ups and downs. And, yes, yours are a little more extreme than most people. But that doesn’t mean that standing with you through them isn’t worth it, Will. It is. I promise you that.”

 

“Most of me doesn’t want to stand through them at all, though,” he admits in a small voice. “I want to hide, to drown it away.”

 

“No, you don’t,” she replies in a firm voice. Something brushes against his hand and it takes a moment to realize it’s her fingers beneath the door seeking his. He watches them for a second before resting his hand atop the bit of hers he can see. Her fingertips curl up under his. “That might be your instinct, but it’s not what you want. If it were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’re more than your instincts.”

 

“Right now, maybe,” he says with a wet laugh. “But if you’d gone when I told you to, I’d be a quarter of the way through a bottle by now.”

 

She’s quiet for a moment, but her fingers stroke against his. “I know.”

 

“Is that… Is that why you didn’t leave?”

 

“No,” Amelia says. “I didn’t leave because this is where I want to be. When it’s easy. When it’s hard. And all the times in-between, if you’ll let me.”

 

For the first time since Beth called, he feels his chest loosen. He nods for a moment before realizing she can’t see him.

 

“I’m really glad,” he says softly.

 

It feels like the biggest understatement he’s ever made.

 

“Do you think you could come out?” she asks. “I just… I’d like to hold you. Maybe that sounds silly, but-”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Will interrupts, his voice gruff. But he tightens his hold on her fingers. “I just… The last time with us… We were together because we both needed an escape. I don’t want us to be like that. Not _us_. It just feels wrong. We’re more than that. And right now…”

 

“Right now you need an escape,” she finishes.

 

“Yeah.” Will stares at their hands. “You’d hold me. I’d kiss you. We both know that I would. And it would grow from there. But it would be for the wrong reasons. I want us to be for the _right_ ones.”

 

“Okay,” Amelia says. “We’ll sit like this then.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“For however long it takes until you’re ready to open the door,” she replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, as if that’s what she’s been trying to tell him for months. “That’s the point, my love.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, please assume any warnings on the fic apply in each chapter. There are not new trigger warnings, but most of those for the fic overall will apply. If you have specific questions you need answered to read safely, feel free to message me.
> 
> Also, let's take a moment to discuss the path post-Providence. Providence's epilogue will post on October 14th. After that, we'll break until the new year and then resume posting oneshots every other Monday. I've weighed how best to move forward and I think that works best. I know that's less frequent than it's been since... ever, but the upside is I'm four oneshots away from having everything drafted through October of 2020. That buys me time for original works and lets us hopefully find time to get to Schism and still maintains FiCoN verse as an ongoing universe for all of us. 
> 
> But back to Providence... whew... we're headed exciting places! Enjoy!

In the days that follow, the divide between _before_ and _after_ begins to take a defined shape.

 

They’re not together, exactly, but that’s also not really the point. Little by little, Will starts to let her see his uncertainty, to show her the inner workings of his mind without flinching away. He still waits for her judgment, holding his breath like he expects her to run, but each day is another step in the right direction. Sometimes it’s a leap, sometimes it’s barely an inch, but it’s _movement._ And while his nerves never seem to dissipate entirely, it appears to get easier for him to allow himself vulnerability.

 

In some ways, it feels more like they’re dating now than it had at the start of their relationship. Maybe, she thinks, they’d been so wrapped up in being together that they skipped over any kind of adjustment period. At the time, it was all she’d wanted to do - jump in feet first, eyes closed, ready to give him everything she’d held back in the past. 

 

Maybe that had been a mistake.

 

They still don’t sleep together. And while he might sometimes kiss her temple or shoulder, there’s no heated makeouts on the sofa or innuendos to open the door for sex again. What they’re building is simpler than that. Achingly so.

 

He holds her hand while they talk. They stand side-by-side, working in tandem as they fix meals. She teases him over baseball games and he wraps an arm around her as they watch movies. They go for a morning run every day, always varying their path, and they fall into step with an easy, companionable silence time after time.

 

Stress still pushes him past his breaking point sometimes. She can’t fix that and it’s going to take a whole lot longer than a few days for him to fix it himself. But he hasn’t been drinking and sometimes he lets her help talk him through the worst of it. 

 

Especially when he’s had a nightmare.

  
“On a scale of one-to-ten, how are you doing this morning?” Amelia asks after they wake up one day. It’d been a long night, one filled with brutal dreams that haunted him well after he woke up screaming at two in the morning. They’d both finally managed to fall asleep on the sofa sometime after three, wrapped up in each other’s arms, but she’s exhausted. And she knows that he is too, even without him telling her. She feels it in the lethargy hanging off of him as he lays with his head pillowed on her shoulder. It lives in the sigh he lets out as her fingers card through his hair.

 

Will doesn’t reply right away. “Maybe a three.”

 

His honesty never fails to make her smile, even if it takes a conscious effort to keep stroking his hair in even motions at his admission. But she does it, because he needs her to. “Okay,” she replies in a measured tone. “How do we get that to a four?”

 

He tilts his head to look at her. “A four? We’re not trying to get me to a ten?”

 

God, he looks absolutely drained and Amelia’s pretty sure the smile she gives him isn’t that even. “You don’t have to be perfect,” she reminds him, cupping the side of his face. “No one expects that. One step at a time. Let’s get you to a four. Then we can talk about a five.”

 

His brow furrows and she’s pretty sure that idea hadn’t even occurred to him. He settles in against her, his eyes dropping to watch his fingers where they drift up and down her arm. The closeness is nice. She’s missed this with him. But the fact that he’s honestly thinking about what she’s saying and giving it real consideration is even better.

 

“Maybe a run,” he says after a minute, looking back at her. “And a nap. Not because I want to avoid things. Just because neither one of us slept very much.”

 

“That’s a good start,” Amelia agrees with a better smile. “We do have to get to the lair this afternoon. We should go easy on ourselves this morning.”

 

He flinches at the reminder and drops his gaze. She doesn’t have to ask why. The trial is just days away. It’s no coincidence that he’s been fighting nightmares more often lately. He’s told her enough about them that she knows they shift sometimes. One night he’s the one dying, the next it’s her. The worst times are when it’s Beth. 

 

Amelia won’t lie and tell him there’s nothing to worry about. She’s scared, too. But she won’t let her fear control her, and she’s not going to sit back and watch it consume him either.

 

“That’s for later, Will,” she says, stroking his beard to get him to look at her again. He does, and his drained, beautiful eyes look at her like maybe she has some kind of answer that’ll save him. “Don’t jump ahead. Planning for the worst is one thing. Obsessing over worry is another. Right now, you’re here with me. We’re gonna go for a run. All you need to focus on right now is whether you want to eat before that or after we get back.”

 

He gives a long, slow exhale. He searches her eyes and she doesn’t waver for a second, hoping he finds whatever he needs in her. He must, because he finally nods, his beard scraping against her collarbone. “Maybe while we’re out?” he suggests. “We can stop at that food cart with the crêpes you like.”

 

“That sounds wonderful.”

 

“And when we get back-”

 

“Don’t think ahead too much,” Amelia interrupts.

 

“I want to this time,” Will replies. He pauses for her input and when she nods after a moment, he continues. “When we get back, maybe we could take that nap together.” She stills. She can’t hide how her breath catches or how her heart jumps. Surprise must show on her face, because he rushes to clarify. “Just to sleep. It would be nice, I think. Just to hold you while we’re somewhere better than this damned sofa.”

 

When he’s done, he takes a quick, nervous breath, chewing on the inside of his lip.

 

It’s endearing, even if it’s so unnecessary. She couldn’t turn him away if she wanted to, not for a request like that. 

 

And she doesn’t want to.

 

“I think that sounds like a wonderful morning,” she replies, giving him a soft smile. He instantly relaxes, his eyes dropping as he grins to himself. He turns to press his lips to her shoulder. “Definitely a solid four.”

 

“Five,” he counters, his whiskers scraping her skin. “At least.”

 

Amelia’s smile grows and she turns her face into his, brushing her nose over his temple and into his hair with an agreeable, “Five.”

 

They lie there for a few more minutes, his head returning to its pillow of her shoulder. She keeps her face pressed to his forehead as she runs her fingertips over the back of his shoulders, cradling him close. It’s selfish, she thinks, as she slips her other hand down his back, running her fingers over his tattoo, but she doesn’t care. She lets herself steal a moment to be with him like this. It isn’t exactly crossing a line, even if the intimacy feels close. 

 

It’s only when he grows heavier that she realizes how long they haven’t moved. His breathing slowly deepens, his body melting further into hers, and she knows that he’s fighting a losing battle against fading back to sleep with each tiny jerk of his shoulders under her hand.

 

While the idea of staying right there is appealing, there’s a point in making small goals for their day and sticking to them.

 

“Come on, honey,” Amelia urges, tapping her fingers against his shoulder blade. “The sooner we get going, the sooner we can take that nap.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees on a sigh. 

 

With a reluctant groan, Will pushes off of her, moving to sit on the edge of the sofa. He yawns and she watches him stretch. It’s astounding how even when he’s stressed out beyond words and utterly exhausted, he’s still this gorgeous. The lines of his body, the rumpled mess of his hair, the imprint of her tank top on his cheek… All of it topped off with her leg still sitting in his lap where it’d fallen from being wrapped around his when they’d laid together.

 

Every bit of him makes her want to tug him back down and kiss him.

 

But that’s not where they’re at right now. She lets herself steal another indulgent moment, her gaze lingering, before she forces herself to look away.

 

“I’ll get us some water bottles and start the coffee,” Amelia says, pulling her leg back. “Go ahead and get ready.”

 

“God, you’re perfect,” he says as he stands.

 

Amelia bites her lip at the quiet reverence in his voice. He gives her a little smile before bending over to kiss the top of her head. The second his lips touch her, she closes her eyes as her heart clenches painfully in her chest.

 

 _I’m not. I’m really not_.

 

She’s lost count of how many times he’s called her perfect in varying ways - a whisper in bed, a compliment as she cooks, a simple statement when she accomplishes a new move at the lair. It’s always  made her feel special, made her think that she can be everything he sees when he looks at her. She _wants_ to be that person, and up until recently, she had believed she could be, as long as he kept looking at her the way he did.

 

But then Ellie had said it, and the word on her sarcastic lips had cut Amelia apart from the inside out.

 

She isn’t perfect, but that was what she’d strived for before, wasn’t it? The Perfect Life, with the perfect-on-paper partner in a perfectly-respectable career on a perfectly-crafted life path that would be… _perfect._ She’d tried for that already and it had nearly destroyed her. But now Will says it, and Ellie mocks it under her breath, and even Nate echoes the sentiment to a degree, making their relationship seem like a fairytale… 

 

It hasn’t been. 

 

 _She_ isn’t. 

 

How can anyone see her as perfect when she’s part of the reason that the love of her life is so damaged?

 

The thought had hit her when he’d fallen asleep a few nights ago as they watched TV. The stress lines on his face had finally relaxed, the ones that dug grooves into his forehead as he tried to keep anyone from seeing how tired he was. The circles under his eyes had been so dark and deep when slack with sleep, his body so lax, collapsing as if the weight of the world he carried with him kept crushing him when he shut his eyes. 

 

Amelia had been so caught up in proving herself to him, to showing him she was here, to being something he can anchor to, that it hadn’t really occurred to her that she might be part of why he was here in the first place. Talk about perfect, huh? Does a perfect person go through what Thad put her through? Put up with the machinations and manipulations, rationalize her way through them, let herself be used like she had? And it’d not only hurt her, but Will, too. 

 

Would he be like this if she hadn’t spent so long foolishly rejecting him? If she hadn’t put herself and her future with the wrong man above Will and everything she felt for him, over and over? 

 

How long will it be before he realizes the same thing, before he places the blame at her feet? 

 

It’s ridiculous, she tries to tell herself, but… Is it? What happens when he’s finally on a better path, when he stops waking up at a three and starts his day better? Will he look at her and see her part in driving him to a state where he questions his own worth in the first place? There’s only so long someone can try to live up to a fantasy before the flaws bleed through. Calling her perfect is meant to be a compliment, and she tries to take it as one, but all she hears is _‘I don’t really see you’_ and a quiet _‘not yet’_ that makes her stomach turn.

 

God, she can’t do this right now.

 

Will strokes her hair down when it gets caught in his beard and gives another little kiss to her hair before he heads to his room to get ready for their run. 

 

The way he sees her is so incredible, and it makes her _feel_ so incredible, but a small voice wonders when that will end...

 

“God,” she breathes, shoving her face into her palms. “Stop it.”

 

Today isn’t about that. It can’t be. What he’s going through isn’t about _her_. He’s at a three and they need to get him to a four or a five. That’s all that matters.

 

Everything gets a little more focused after that. 

 

She makes coffee and gets them water bottles. They both get ready and go for a run, stopping for her favorite crêpes and sharing two different kinds before running back home. They take separate showers before heading into the bedroom. When she asks if he’s sure, all he does is smile and climb onto the bed before holding his hand out to her. He pulls her back against his chest and they curl up together. Before they’re even settled, he’s out. Amelia relishes every little snore that falls from him, wrapping her arms around his where they’re wound around her middle, and finally lets herself fall asleep.

 

It’s a good morning.

 

When they wake up a little past lunchtime, there’s a light in his eyes that had been absent earlier. That’s a victory, and it’s one she cherishes. It means he’s got a little more in him to make it through the trials of the afternoon. But it’s hard won, and it would be a lie to say she’s not just as tired as earlier.

 

But this isn’t about her.

 

Maybe if she repeats that enough, she’ll start believing it. Maybe when he opens his eyes and really sees her, he’ll still see the perfect version of her that he’s built in his mind and not reality. It’d probably help if she stopped ignoring reality herself, but then she wouldn’t be able to be there for him, not like he needs. It’s both necessary and worthwhile, and she’s beyond grateful he’s letting her do it. But sometimes, usually when he’s asleep and she’s watching over him, she remembers that she’s scared, too. That she has nightmares, too. That a small, terrified part of her that she keeps buried as deep as she can is worried that there won’t be enough of her left after Will’s better to take care of herself. 

 

It’s in those moments that she lets herself think about having to get up on the stand and testify in a few days. It could very well be the last thing she ever does.

 

Amelia closes her eyes and shoves that thought back down.

 

She can’t focus on that right now. Letting herself have a moment to fall apart doesn’t feel like an option. Not when she needs to help fight to get him from a three to a five.

 

“You okay?”

 

Amelia starts, head whipping toward him. It’s only then that she realizes he’s been talking and she hasn’t registered a word of it.

 

“I’m fine,” she replies with a smile. She looks away before he can tell that it’s fragile. “Just thinking about the rest of the day. That’s all.”

 

Will steps closer and smooths his hands over her upper arms as he smiles. It’s bright and light and honest. Seeing that look on his face is such a relief that she forgets about her own problems for a moment.

 

“One thing at a time,” he says. “Remember?”

 

Amelia narrows her eyes. “Are you tossing my own words back at me, Will Queen?”

 

“Just sharing some wisdom that someone far smarter than me came up with.”

 

“Well, you must be pretty special for her to care about you so much,” she says.

 

Will grins. “That’s what she keeps telling me.”

 

“You just said she was smart,” Amelia points out, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should believe her.”

 

“Maybe I’m starting to.”

 

His words, as simple as they are, shift the air between them in an instant. She hadn’t seen it coming at all. But the scant bit of hopefulness on his face, the raw vulnerability in his eyes, it’s enough to make her heart skip a beat.

 

It lingers. 

 

She pushes down the urge to pinch herself because if this happens to be an extremely realistic dream, she doesn’t want to wake up right now. A nervous smile flickers across his lips and his eyebrows twitch like he’s unable to settle as he waits for her reply.

 

“Good,” she finally says, nodding before licking her lips. “That’s…” She gives a little laugh. “That’s great, actually.”

 

He exhales like he’d been waiting for her to respond. If he were anyone else, she might take offense that he didn’t have faith in her. But this is Will and that’s not what’s going on here. He believes in her. She knows that. It’s himself he doesn’t quite believe in.

 

“We should get going,” he reminds her, slipping his hand into hers. He runs his thumb over her forefinger. “I’d like to get a little time in with the weights before everyone else gets there.”

 

“Right,” she agrees. “A solid warm-up before your sisters show up and decide to kick my ass would probably be good... Professionally kick my ass, I mean.”

 

“Pretty sure it’s more of a sport for both of them,” he says. “Even if you and Jules seem to be friends now.”

 

“As your siblings go, I’ve got three out of four who don’t relish beating the hell out of me,” Amelia reminds him. Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she goes to grab it as she adds, “That’s progress, at least.”

 

He gives a short, shallow-humored laugh as he shakes his head. Amelia’s smile fades slightly as she looks at her phone and sees who’s calling. “Maggie?” she asks, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “What’s up? Don’t tell me it’s go-time.”

 

“What?” Maggie asks, giving a tight chuckle that makes Amelia frown. “No. My little man is still doing cartwheels on my bladder. I was just hoping you had time to meet up today.”

 

“Right now?” Amelia glances at the wall clock. “I can swing by. Will and I were just about to hit the gym.”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie answers. Her pitch is a little higher than normal and there’s a note of something in her voice that Amelia can’t quite read. “Now would be good.”

 

The hair on the back of her neck rises and she stills, trying to figure out what’s making her stomach coil with an anxious tug. Her shoulders bunch and her fingers tighten in Will’s before she knows what she’s doing. “Everything okay, Mags?”

 

Will frowns, ducking his head to catch her eye. When she looks at him, he furrows his brow in question and she just shakes her head. She doesn’t _know,_ but something is sparking her concern.

 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Maggie replies. Her voice shakes and she bursts out with a small sob that she tries to cage in. Panic blooms in Amelia’s chest, growing rapidly when she hears a slight rustle of fabric. She’s on speakerphone. “Hormones, you know. I’m nesting, I guess. I love you, Amelia. I’m sorry. I just really need to see you right now. That’s all.”

 

Amelia nods, her mind spinning as she stares at a wall. “I love you, too, Maggie. I’ll be right over.”

 

“I just have to see you,” Maggie blurts out in a rush before Amelia has a chance to disconnect. “I ran into Celeste’s brother today. It brought back a lot of memories. You know, from college.”

 

A trickle of ice slides down Amelia’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She has to speak, she knows she does, but everything seems frozen. It takes Will squeezing her hand and looking at her with concern to jolt her into action. “Really?” she asks, and she tries to mask the tremor in her voice with incredulity. “Celeste’s brother? We haven’t seen him in forever. Are you sure it was him?”

 

“I’m certain,” Maggie replies.

 

Fear. That’s what she hears in her friend’s voice, Amelia realizes with a start. Bone-deep terror masquerading as a simple phone call to a friend.

 

“I can see why you’d need to talk after running into him,” Amelia says, fighting to keep her voice even and measured. “I understand entirely. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

 

“Drive carefully.”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia breathes out.

 

For a split second, she doesn’t move. Her heart pounds, her mind racing, her throat closing as she tries to process what just happened. She jumps as the phone clicks and the line disconnects. The sudden severing of the conversation with her best friend jolts Amelia into action. 

 

“Amelia?” Will asks as she drops his hand and races back into the bedroom. He follows with a sharp, “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t even register his question. She’s too busy making a beeline for the nightstand where he stowed a pistol a few nights ago. His voice rings out from the doorway. “ _Amelia_? What’s wrong with Celeste’s brother?”

 

“Celeste doesn’t have a brother,” Amelia replies, grabbing the gun and checking its clip. “None of us do. It’s a code we used in college when we needed to get away from a party or a date without letting a guy know why. Maggie’s in trouble. It’s Domino. It has to be.”

 

The confusion on his face shifts to resolve as he turns and heads to the kitchen.

 

“Where are you going?” she asks, searching around the drawer for another clip.

 

“Grabbing knives,” Will replies. “You’re better with them. And I’ll need the gun.”

 

Amelia blinks and leans back to look through the doorway in the direction of the kitchen as her fingers close around the extra clip. “You’re going with me?”

 

“Yep,” he says, heading back and handing her four recently-sharpened steak knives.

 

“But you hate fighting,” she says as he takes the gun from her.

 

“I hate watching you walk into a trap even more,” he replies. He pockets the extra clip and checks the gun for himself before shoving it in the back of his pants. “Let’s go. Maggie needs us. You drive, I’ll rally the team.”

 

There’s an air about him that she’s never seen before and for the first time, she can perfectly picture him dressed in his father’s leathers. She can see him as clear as day with the hood up, the quiver on his back, racing to save the day. It had seemed so absurd when she first heard about it, so far away from anything he’d actually do, but now she can see it. He stands taller, his shoulders back, his eyes narrowed in laser-sharp focus, the line of his brow severe. 

 

It doesn’t make him a fighter, though. That’s not his nature. He’ll do it if he has to, but it goes against the grain of who he is and who he wants to be.

 

And it’s not what she wants for him, either.

 

“Will,” she says as they climb into the car, her voice filled with concern on so many levels.

 

“I know,” he replies, slamming the passenger door shut behind him as he hangs up on Felicity. He glances at her with a softer, “I know,” as she starts the car. He’s accessing the emergency app Felicity created for everyone, just to enable the team to find them more easily. Amelia doesn’t waste a single second, roaring out of her parking spot. “Felicity is calling everyone.”

 

“You don’t…” Amelia cuts herself off and casts him an anxious glance. Despite what she’d been about to say, she does need him out there, at least until everyone else shows up. “If it weren’t Maggie…”

 

“But it is,” Will says without looking up. He’s all business and Amelia nods to herself, trying to get her brain on the same track. “Surveillance first. If we can hold off on engaging until there’s backup, that gives everyone a better chance.”

 

“I won’t jeopardize Maggie or her family,” Amelia tells him.

 

“They’re already in jeopardy,” Will reminds her, shifting in his seat to face her. “We need to eliminate as many threats as possible. If they aren’t in immediate danger, we wait.”

 

 _“If_ they aren’t in immediate danger,” she agrees. She knows what constitutes immediate danger, logically and rationally. But the fact that this is happening at all has her gripping the steering wheel so tightly it burns her palms. It’s only that the car is programmed to head toward Maggie’s house that keeps them en route as her mind shuffles through every worse case scenario. “How far out is the team?”

 

“No one was at the lair yet,” Will replies. Ice coats her stomach. That’s unfortunate, because the lair means resources. And, if nobody is there, that’s a few less things on their side right now. She forces herself to nod, to process the information and move on. Will continues. “Ellie’s on her way from the foundation. Felicity’s going to set up at the brownstone. Sara and Alex are at work. Jules is in a meeting with clients, and she’s not answering my calls or texts. It’s going straight to voicemail, which is a first. Digg and Lyla are getting Connor settled at college in National City, so they’re out. Dad, Uncle Roy and Eric were leaving from Roy’s place.”

 

“What?” Amelia demands, turning to look at him. “That’s on the other side of town!”

 

“Not to throw your own words back at you in a much less light-hearted conversation, but take one thing at a time,” he counsels. There’s a sharpness in his voice that leaves no room for argument. She swallows hard, turning back to the road. “We get there. We get an idea of the situation, and we make choices from there. Do you have a comm?”

 

“Yeah, it’s… No, no I left it at home, I had it out earlier. I… Damn it, no. I’m sorry. It’s at home. My phone is too. I didn’t think-”

 

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, punching some buttons on his cell and then setting it to speakerphone. He talks over the ringing noise filling the car. “We’ll manage.”  

 

“Traffic is dumb,” Felicity says by way of greeting. “Whatever happened to flying cars? That was supposed to be a thing by now.”

 

“Invent it,” Will replies before re-centering the conversation. “How far from the brownstone are you?”

 

“Twenty minutes? Maybe more? There’s an accident on the beltway and I swear it might be faster to walk.”

 

Amelia groans in frustration, shoving her hand through her hair.

 

“What can you do from the car?” Will asks.

 

“I’m not hacking from my phone, if that’s what you’re asking,” Felicity says. Something rustles in the background as a horn honks. “We all know how well that… Oh hush, we’re all stuck here! ...I do have my tablet. I can do some damage from that. As soon as you’re in range, I can pick up the security feeds in your area through the app. Amelia, does Maggie have a security system?”

 

“Yes,” Amelia replies. “Yeah, she does. Jer got one installed after the attack on City Hall.”

 

Felicity’s nails clacking against a screen comes through the line. “Cameras or just an alarm?”

 

“Both? I think? They got everything the company offered,” Amelia replies. Maggie had thought it was over the top at the time. Amelia had never agreed, and she’s insanely grateful that she talked Maggie into accepting the more expensive option. “W-what about Digg and Lyla’s people? The security team keeps me safe when I have to leave the condo. Can’t we-”

 

“No,” Felicity interrupts sharply. “We can’t ask them to do vigilante work for about a million reasons. They’re guards, not masks. We… Well, we could call the police, but…”

 

“But that has a whole lot of risk if Domino’s men are using Maggie as a hostage to get to Amelia,” Will finishes for her.

 

Now isn’t the time to fall apart, but hearing it stated so plainly - from _Will_ , of all people - has Amelia’s eyes falling shut against a surge of tears. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, biting her lips together so hard she tastes blood. She had honestly thought everyone would be okay, that they would only come after _her_ , that nothing bad would happen. She’d _needed_ to believe that, and now they have _Maggie_ and… 

 

Anger surges inside her.

 

No. _No_ , damn it, Domino can’t do this. He _can’t_.

 

Amelia opens her eyes and grips the steering wheel even harder than before.

 

“We should be in range any minute, Felicity,” Will reports. “You any closer to the brownstone?”

 

She sighs. “I’ve moved about ten feet, if that. I… Will, I hate to say this, but…”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles in reply. “I thought the same thing.”

 

“What?” Amelia asks.

 

“It’s not just a traffic jam. It’s gridlock,” Felicity replies before Will adds, “Dad, Roy and Eric are probably stuck in the same traffic. And we can’t even _reach_ Jules.” 

 

“Yeah,” Felicity agrees with a heavy note of reservation in her voice. “It looks like cell service is out for a few blocks around her art studio. Wifi, too, which makes sense because they’re run through the same company but...”

 

Helplessness pours off of Amelia as she meets Will’s eyes. 

 

“What are the odds that’s a coincidence?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” Will breathes.

 

“You think Domino orchestrated a car wreck and cell service outage to isolate Amelia?” Felicity asks.

 

“I think there’s very little that Domino leaves to chance,” Will replies.

 

Felicity goes quiet for a moment. “Ellie was supposed to have a meeting up in the Heights today. The donor cancelled last minute. She came down with the flu this morning. The cell outage stretches into the Heights.”

 

“So Ellie was supposed to be unavailable, too,” he says, looking at Amelia. “None of this was an accident. _None_ of it.”

 

“You may be right,” Felicity says. “Okay, I’m finally getting security feeds from around you, just a little closer... Ah, there’s Maggie’s. At least I think it’s Maggie’s. Give me a minute to clear these up.”

 

It feels like a lot longer than a minute. In fact, it feels like an eternity passes when Amelia pulls over a few blocks from Maggie’s house. Her stomach churns and her hands shake as she twists in her seat to stare at Will’s phone. She wills Felicity to speak, but each second of silence seems slower than the last. Will reaches over and grabs her hand, squeezing her fingers. Amelia doesn’t look up from the phone.

 

She’s never hated silence quite so much.

 

“Mom,” Will prods.

 

“Well, she was right,” Felicity finally admits, her voice careful and measured. “It’s definitely Domino’s men.”

 

“How many?” Amelia demands, lurching closer to the phone. “Is Maggie okay? Is she hurt? What kind of-”

 

“Slow down,” Felicity interrupts. Will drops Amelia’s hand to grab her shoulder, gripping her hard enough to forcibly anchor her in her seat. Her wild eyes dart up to his and his face silently urges her to be calm. But, there’s no _calm_ here. “Maggie is okay,” Felicity continues. “It doesn’t look like they’ve hurt her.”

 

“Oh thank God,” Amelia gasps, a tiny sob of relief following.

 

“And it looks like her little girl is okay, too,” Felicity adds.

 

Everything stops. The world freezes, closing in around Amelia in a vicious rush that leaves her heart stuttering to a stop and the air in her lungs turning to concrete.

 

“ _What_?” she breathes.

 

“Her little girl,” Felicity repeats as a strangled moan of helplessness slips from Amelia’s throat and her head falls forward against the full force of what Felicity is telling her. “She’s napping in her room, but she’s okay. Flopping around in her sleep and cuddling a teddy bear nearly as big as she is. She doesn’t know anything is going on.”

 

“Deedee is there?” Amelia asks, her voice deadly quiet. She doesn’t realize how tight her hand is around the emergency brake until one of her nails snaps. She doesn’t feel it. “Deedee is _there_ , with those men in her house?”

 

“I’m telling you that she’s okay,” Felicity reminds her. “And so is Maggie. But there are six masked men holding your friend. And three in her little girl’s room.”

 

Amelia doesn’t register shifting the car into drive and veering back onto the road. She’s barely aware of speeding down the last few streets to Maggie’s house.

 

“You need to calm down,” Will orders, his voice uncharacteristically level and business-like. It does nothing to soothe Amelia’s nerves. In fact, it razes them, setting every inch of the last thread of sanity she had on fire.

 

“Calm down?” Amelia demands with a shrill laugh. “There are three mobsters watching my four-year-old goddaughter sleep and six of them are holding my very pregnant best friend hostage. They’re doing it to get to _me_. How the fuck am I supposed to calm down right now, Will?”

 

“Like a professional,” he snaps. It’s sharp enough to grab her attention. He punches the auto-drive and grabs her face, forcing her to look at him. She opens her mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, leveling her with an intense look that cuts right through the words she’d been about to say. “You’re a vigilante, Amelia. You’ve trained for this. It’s personal and I get that, but if you let your fear take over, the risk goes up dramatically. You _have_ to keep your cool. Maggie and Deedee need you.”

 

His words do nothing to bring her any sense of peace, but they do force her to push through her panic. It’s enough to breathe, to blink and see the world as it is around them. He’s right. She’s no good to anyone if she can’t keep her head on straight, and she needs to right now. Desperately. She can do it for Will, and she’s damn well going to do it for Maggie and Deedee. 

 

Is this what Will does all the time? Is this what he feels like on a near-daily basis? Is this what a three is to him? Is it a four? God, how does he do it? She doesn’t have any way to gauge how well her scale lines up with his, but she does know she never wants to feel this way again. And she doesn’t want him to have to, either.

 

“That’s better,” Will says as her breathing slows to something more normal.

 

She’s not so sure, but she keeps that to herself. As controlled as her breathing is - her chest is still tight and her hands still shake - when she thinks about Maggie and Deedee being in danger because of her, she wants to scream.

 

But whatever he sees seems to soothe him and she holds on to that.

 

She can do this.

 

“You should hold back, Will,” Felicity urges. “They don’t need to know you’re there. Amelia might be able to stall them until we get more of the team on site.”

 

“No way in hell,” Will counters as the car comes to a stop outside Maggie’s picturesque little ranch-style house. “We’ve had bodyguards on her for a reason. She’s not walking into a trap set by people who want to kill her without having backup.”

 

“Will…”

 

“It wouldn’t matter if they were here or not,” he interrupts his stepmother. “I’m not leaving her side.” 

 

Felicity sighs. “Alright. Buy as much time as you can. I’ll see if I can work my way into the cell provider network and untangle their mess. Maybe I can get ahold of Jules. Leave your phone in the car so I can keep monitoring the security cameras. I wish you two had a comm.”

 

“We’ll manage,” Will assures her, stepping out of the car and heading around to help Amelia out of the driver’s side. She just watches him, numbly taking in his subtle movements as he adjusts his shirt to keep his pistol hidden. She wants to tell him she’s fine, but she’s not. She’s so nervous she’s not sure she can keep hold of a knife right now, much less use it effectively. She still shoves one in each of her boots and slides the other two up her sleeves. Will opens her door with a soft, “You okay?”

 

“Not remotely,” she replies, taking his hand.

 

“ _Will_ ,” Felicity calls out. The voice is tinny, echoing from where his phone sits in a cup holder. “Be smart with this one, kiddo. Both of you keep your training in mind. This could get bad really quickly, and I really don’t want that to happen, so… Be careful.”

 

“Yeah,” Will replies.

 

There’s a grim line to his mouth that leaves him looking too severe and not himself. But he’s holding it together, she realizes, because she isn’t. Half of her wants to run in there and start dropping Domino’s boys without a word, without a strategy. The other half wants to curl into a ball and cry.

 

This is far, far too personal.

 

“What do we do?” Amelia asks, looking to Will. He’s so good in a crisis that’s not his own. “How do we help them?”

 

He just looks at her. “We knock on the door and see what they want.”

 

Amelia’s eyes widen incredulously. “Excuse me?”

 

“There’s nine of them, Amelia,” Will reminds her. “If they wanted you dead right now, they could’ve showed up at home and overwhelmed us with the element of surprise and sheer numbers. Hell, they could’ve bombed the condo or cut the brakes on your car. But they didn’t. They went to a lot of trouble to lure you here. I think we need to find out why. And buy ourselves some time in the process.”

 

“But Deedee-”

 

“Is asleep in her bed,” Will says, grasping her arm. “She doesn’t know anything is going on.”

 

And what if Deedee wakes up? She’s absolutely in imminent danger, and they shouldn’t ignore that, damn it. All the _what ifs_ run through Amelia’s head with increasing vividness that leaves her fighting to push down her imagination.

 

“Hey,” Will says and she focuses on him again. “You need to stop thinking like Amelia and start thinking like Providence. Do you understand me?”

 

She blinks, and then she nods.

 

“Nine targets, two civilians,” he reminds her. “We have backup on the way and we’re armed. We can do this.”

 

“It’s broad daylight, Will,” Amelia points out. “They did this in the middle of the day.”

 

“Which means they’re desperate,” he replies, pinning her with his eyes.

 

She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Glad it’s not just me then.”

 

“ _Providence_ ,” he snaps and she jumps. He sighs before grasping her hand. He squeezes it once and then lets her go. “You can feel all of this later. There’s no room for that right now. Get your head in the game.”

 

“Right,” Amelia says. She takes a deep breath and nods. Her heart won’t stop racing, but her hands have stopped shaking as much. In fact, the wild adrenaline that’d been making her body feel like it was built from twigs has dissipated altogether. She’s not sure if it’s Will’s words, or the reality of what they’re walking into, or if Providence is finally taking over. Whatever it is, it lets Amelia take another deep breath before wiping her palms against her jeans. Then she tilts her head to Maggie’s front door. “Shall we?”

 

“They know you’re here,” Felicity advises through the still-active phone line. It takes some effort to not look back into the car toward her voice. Amelia’s eyes stay glued on Will’s as if they’re having a normal conversation. “You’ve got one looking out the window watching you through the blinds right now. He has a gun, but it’s not aimed.”

 

Will lets out an approving noise. “That says a lot.”

 

He’s right, Amelia knows. About all of this. They want something, though she can’t imagine what.

 

“Ellie is about ten minutes out,” Felicity tells them. “I got ahold of Jules. She’s a little further away, but she’s headed to join you. Just get them talking and don’t let them stop.”

 

“Got it,” Will replies. His words are sharp and precise. His eyes drop to Amelia’s shoulder, but she can tell he’s honed all his attention on the window in his peripheral. He looks so much like his father right now. He looks like The Arrow. While that’s a wonderful and noble mantle that Oliver Queen has taken for himself, it doesn’t fit Will. She doesn’t want it for him any more than he wants it for himself. But right now they don’t have many options.

 

“Be careful,” Felicity cautions again before disconnecting the call.

 

Will shuts the car door. “Ready?”

 

“Yes,” she lies.

 

He must know it’s not true, but he seems satisfied with the effort anyway, nodding before they move. They head side-by-side to the front door. Chalk drawings decorate the pavement leading to the home and Deedee’s tricycle sits next to the door with a helmet and kneepads dangling from the handlebars. Amelia shuts her eyes and swallows back a swell of nausea.

 

She knocks.

 

“Come in, Miss Prescott,” a voice replies. 

 

It’s not Maggie. They aren’t even pretending that she doesn’t know about their charade. Ice floods her veins and the knife slides down her sleeve a little. It pricks the heel of her palm as she forces herself to grab the doorknob and open the door.

 

She’d known what she would find. Felicity had been clear enough about that. But it’s a very different thing hearing about her best friend being held captive and coming face-to-face with her crying as a knife digs in against her throat.

 

“Amelia,” she sobs, clearly torn between being grateful to see her and horrified that she came despite the warning.

 

The sound of it steadies Amelia more than anything else could have.

 

Maggie needs her. Deedee needs her.

 

Calm blankets her completely, all the training that’d kicked her ass and honed her skills takes over. Her lungs don’t fight for air and her muscles relax, preparing for when she’ll need to move. She quickly glances around the room as she steps inside, mentally taking stock of the masked men surrounding them, skimming for weaknesses and opportunities. They circle with a violent hunger that makes Amelia want to lash out.

 

“Everything is fine, Maggie,” Amelia tells her friend. “Stay calm, okay? Are you hurt?”

 

“She’s fine,” one of the men replies.

 

Amelia glares at him. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

 

“Deedee,” Maggie chokes out. “Sh-she’s in her room. There are more men. They-”

 

“I know,” Amelia replies. “She’s asleep. She’s okay. Slow down. Take a breath. Your little boy needs you to stay calm, too.”

 

“How can you…” Maggie stops and swallows hard against the blade at her throat. “How can you know that? Why didn’t you call the police?”

 

A series of chuckles echo from the masked men around them. Amelia grits her teeth, her hands curling into fists as the urge to hurt every single one of them surges within her. But she takes her cue from Will instead, tensing, readying for the inevitable fight, shifting so she can press her back to Will’s.

 

“You gonna tell her?” one of the men asks. She can’t see his lips, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “Or should we?”

 

Amelia glowers at him. “You made a big mistake coming here. And you’re going to pay for it.”

 

He snorts before looking at Maggie. “Your friend’s nowhere near as intimidating without her fancy sword. Even if she does still have Overwatch tapping into security feeds or hijacking a satellite or whatever shit she does to get a visual. And she’s a whole lot less scary without her team backing her up.”

 

“Wait, you…” Maggie’s eyes widen with understanding. “You… You said you were taking self-defense lessons and working out at the gym.”

 

“I lied,” Amelia replies.

 

“What were you _thinking_?” Maggie demands in a breathless whisper.

 

“She wasn’t,” a new voice replies for her. 

 

Despite using a voice modulator, a sharp edge of authority in the man’s tone leaves the hair on the back of Amelia’s neck standing up.

 

An imposing man with a mask the complete opposite of the others steps forward. There’s white where his eyes should be and black everywhere else. He carries himself like a man in power, and all the other masks in the room straighten at the introduction of his presence. Amelia shifts closer to Will as the man steps further into the room, his hands casually resting in his pockets as if he weren’t wearing a mask and threatening the lives of a toddler and a pregnant woman.

 

“She was reacting,” the man continues, talking to Maggie. But Amelia can feel his gaze glued to her. “Like a wounded animal struggling to survive. But then they often make the best fighters, don’t they? They have nothing left to lose. Unlike now.”

 

“Who are you?” Amelia demands.

 

“Forgive me,” he replies in a biting tone. He moves a few steps closer, but it only serves to make him seem more like a contradiction of a human man with an inhuman face. The white space where his eyes should be nearly glow in the dim room. “We haven’t formally met, have we, Providence? I’m Domino, and you’ve been fucking up my plans.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kiddo had a nightmare and got me up at 4:30. She's better now, but I'm awake. So... you get the chapter a little earlier than usual. 
> 
> Existing warnings continue to apply to this chapter. There are no new warnings, but do heed previous ones. This is a chapter that one of my betas had to take a break while working on, because it hit her hard. I suspect some of you will need a break while reading it, too.
> 
> I'm sure there's more I wanted to say but it's like 5 am and I haven't even had coffee yet. So, uh... I guess maybe I'll remember next week. Enjoy!

_“I’m Domino, and you’ve been fucking up my plans.”_

 

Protective instinct roars inside Will as Amelia goes stiff, her breath catching in her throat. It’s easier than it should be when he moves, especially given her training. But, one second they’re side-by-side and the next he’s yanking Amelia behind him as he turns in place to stare down the man who’s been hunting her.

 

White, plastic eyes stare back at him from the mask as a thin chuckle rumbles from behind it. Despite the ominous sound, Will’s training kicks in, cataloguing everything like he’s been instructed to do his whole life - both on his job and from years of living with a vigilante family. The man is taller than Will by a few inches. He’s white, broad-shouldered, and carries himself like someone in charge, but not like a fighter. Will would know. He’s grown up with fighters. Silver-streaked hair and the skin of his neck leaves Will thinking the man’s in his fifties or sixties. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than they had, even if the description fits probably tens of thousands of the people in Starling.

 

In the background, Will can hear Maggie sobbing and the metallic click and clang of various weapons readying. He catches the startled gasp from Amelia at his move and he isn’t sure if he’s glad or pissed that her emotions are so obviously clouding her head.

 

Either way, he wants so damned badly to protect her. And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

 

“How very predictable,” Domino murmurs.

 

“Am I?” Will asks, raising his voice. “How’s that?”

 

“Using yourself as a shield,” the man replies with a droll wave of his hand. “All the struggling you’ve done since you got shot diving to protect your friend, and you’d do it all over again, wouldn’t you?”

 

A chill races through Will at Domino’s words. 

 

His eyes flicker around the room, taking in the masked men that form a semi-circle before them. Behind him, he hears Amelia trying to control her breathing. Fabric rustles behind him, and he knows she’s slid the knives hidden in her sleeves down to grip their hilts. Good. He needs her right now, as much as they need the element of surprise. They need each other.

 

“Always willing to sacrifice yourself, aren’t you?” Domino continues. “No matter the cost.”

 

Will shakes his head and reaches back to pull out his gun. The men surrounding them raise their weapons in response, hammers cocking as Maggie lets out a startled shriek. Will doesn’t waver, his eyes never leaving Domino as he flips off the safety and aims the pistol at him.

 

“I’m not sacrificing anything,” he says.

 

Domino laughs. “You’re not going to shoot me, Will Queen. That’s not who you are.”

 

“You wanna bet your life on it?” Will challenges.

 

There’s not a single part of him that doesn’t believe he could do it right now. His finger itches on the trigger. Domino’s terrorized the city for years. He’s a threat to every single person Will loves. He’s endangered Bethany and hunted Amelia. There’s no doubt that the world would be better off without him. 

 

“How about we bet Maggie’s life on it?” Domino suggests. Will freezes, his eyes darting to the sobbing pregnant woman with a knife to her throat. “Because that’s what it would cost you to shoot me. For starters, anyhow. The little one asleep down the hall would be next.”

 

Will’s heart jumps into his throat as Amelia presses a shaking hand to his lower back.

 

“Could you sacrifice them, I wonder, if it meant keeping your Amelia safe?” Domino muses as he steps closer. He removes his hands from his pockets and clasps them behind his back as he slowly tilts his head. Will’s struck with the eerie feeling that the person before him isn’t even real. “I’m always curious where a man’s line is. How absolute are your morals, Will Queen? How much of your father do you have in you?”

 

The mention of his father on this man’s lips has anger boiling up inside him. Will grits his teeth, holding the gun tighter. But he doesn’t move. Because thinking about his dad reminds him of his family, of the team, of the fact that he’s supposed to be stalling.

 

“You don’t know the first thing about my father,” Will bites out.

 

“I know _everything_ about your father,” Domino corrects, a wild grin evident in his voice as he suddenly steps closer. The move has the barrel of Will’s gun pressing right to where Domino’s heart should be, but the man standing before him doesn’t seem to care in the least, even as he pushes against it, invading Will’s space. He leans in so close his mask is inches from Will’s face. “I. Know. Everything.”

 

It’s a threat as much as anything else, and Will believes him. His finger curls around the trigger.

 

 _Stall. You’re supposed to be stalling. Keep him talking_.

 

Will bites his tongue to keep his face neutral. “Sure you do.”

 

“More than you, I’d wager,” Domino replies, tilting his head the other way, a hint of his eyes gleaming through the white holes. “I know he struggled with killing a bird for food on that island, but then he assassinated a man to protect his friend’s family two years later. It’s remarkable what struggle can do to a man, don’t you think? Some of us come out stronger for it. And some of us are… Well… _You_.”

 

Amelia growls from behind Will.

 

“Killing doesn’t mean you’re strong,” Will says. “It means you’re desperate. Everything my father has done, he did to survive.”

 

“Don’t we all?” Domino whispers. 

 

Will can’t quite see his eyes, but he can _feel_ them. He doesn’t budge. He barely breathes, keeping the gun right where it is. _Give me one reason, just one_. But even if he did, Domino knows as well as Will does that he won’t do anything. Because of Maggie. Because of Deedee. He can’t do anything that would bring them harm. 

 

The minute that passes lasts an eternity before Domino hums under his breath.

 

“Very clever,” he says, turning and taking a few steps. One hand’s fingers drum a random beat against the other hand where Domino keeps them clasped behind his back. When he reaches Maggie - who whimpers, closing her eyes - Domino turns back. “You’re clever, roping me into talking about him. I know you’re stalling for time, hoping your merry band of masked men will pop up and save you all.”

 

“It’s probably in your best interest to be gone before Robin Hood and Little John get here, then,” Will says. “If you leave before they show up to save the day, it will absolutely go better for you.”

 

 _“Save the day,”_ Domino mocks. None of his men move a muscle. Absolutely none of them even flinch at the mention of the vigilante team. Domino chuckles.“Every man thinks he’s a hero, I suppose.”

 

Amelia shifts behind Will. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head, but she doesn’t stop, easing her way to his side once more.

 

“Anyone who goes up against you is a hero in my book,” Will says, trying to keep the attention on him.

 

“Because you’re very _simple_ , Will,” Domino replies, holding up his thumb and forefinger just an inch apart. “You think in a very small way. Your little team can keep patting themselves on the back for stealing from the rich to give to the poor - ironic, given your family - but someone has to worry about safety and security, about the rule of _law_. _”_

 

“Are you seriously going with this Sheriff of Nottingham metaphor?” Will scoffs. “Are you gonna break into song? I’m sorry to say I’m not prepared for that. And, honestly, I’m not sure I could pull off the tights.”

 

Domino’s head tilts again with a quiet hum. “I bet you’ve got the legs for it.”

 

Will blinks, shaking his head with a low, “Uh…”

 

“You lured me here for a reason,” Amelia says, stepping out from behind Will completely. When Domino’s head turns to her, Will has to fight to keep from jumping between them again. “You took a pregnant woman and her toddler hostage to get me here.”

 

“Well, I had to make the stakes clear, didn’t I?” Domino asks, striding closer to Amelia, only stopping a couple of feet away. The same urge nearly overtakes Will again, but he holds fast, keeping his feet rooted in place. She’s the vigilante here. He trusts her. He respects her. And he has to have faith that she can hold her own.

 

But that doesn’t mean he stops aiming his gun at Domino.

 

“You made me show my face,” Domino snaps before huffing out a chuckle. He waves at his mask with an amused gesture. “Metaphorically, that is. For years, I’ve managed to keep myself entirely unseen in public as Domino. But you… You just don’t quit, do you, Amelia Prescott? I suppose that would be commendable if you weren’t such a pain the ass.”

 

Amelia holds her chin high. “You _made_ me,” she tells him. “The only one you have to blame for Providence is yourself.”

 

“Of course I do,” Domino agrees. “It’s not as though you’ve ever achieved anything on your own. You were one of my biggest mistakes. I should’ve had you killed in that hospital bed after you put my men in jail. It would’ve saved me so much grief.”

 

Amelia flinches. 

 

Will doesn’t have to think. He just acts. He takes a step forward, drawing Domino’s attention back to him as he asks, “Why didn’t you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m more grateful than you will ever know that she survived, but you’d already tried to kill her once-”

 

“More than once,” Domino corrects primly.

 

The rest of Will’s words die away. “More than once?” he repeats faintly.

 

“It was supposed to be an accident,” Domino replies before waving his hands in the air. “Gas line explosion at the hospital site. It would’ve been poetic, really. They undoubtedly would’ve named a wing after her when it was eventually built, mourning the tragic loss of a bright, young, _giving_ woman. It would’ve been very touching.”

 

“You’re sadistic,” Amelia whispers.

 

“Quite the contrary,” Domino replies. “I don’t relish causing pain. I just recognize the necessity of it. It’s a numbers game, my dear. Sometimes you have to snap the bird’s neck so you can eat dinner. Or execute a man to save a family. This is the same. It’s just on a much grander scale.”

 

“The greater good?” Will repeats slowly. “You honestly think you’re some kind of hero?”

 

Domino gaze bores uncomfortably into Will’s skin. “No man is the villain of his own story.”

 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Will says.

 

“Which one?” Domino quirks his head again. “I’ve lost track of which stall tactic you’re using at the moment.”

 

“The reason you didn’t kill her after you failed at City Hall,” Will repeats. The words are thick and heavy on his tongue. They’re hard to think about, much less say. She could’ve been taken away from him so many times, in so many ways. “You’re right,” Will continues. “You could have killed her. It would’ve been easy. I wasn’t in her life then. My family wasn’t watching over her. She didn’t have any security. She didn’t have any training. Hell, she was probably so heavily medicated the entire time that she wouldn’t have realized what was happening. So why didn’t you do it?”

 

Domino pauses and that same feeling of the man’s eyes digging in creeps over Will. 

 

“Circumstances,” he allows. “My plan got messy.” _Bullshit_ , Will thinks. It’s a non-answer. Domino shrugs. “It’s one thing to have her killed in an accident or as an unfortunate casualty in an attack on the mayor. It’s quite another to have her murdered. People might start asking the wrong questions. It’s not as though she’s unknown socially or politically. Her former attachment to DeWolfe alone would’ve posed a problem.”

 

Amelia’s breathless, “What?” is barely audible as Will reaches the same conclusion.

 

Thad. She’s alive, at least in part, because of _Thad._ He wasn’t lying back in his office. He hasn’t been lying about any of it, as self-serving as his intentions are. Will can’t imagine it’s because of any lingering attachment the senator might have to her. But publicity might’ve posed a problem for him, her once-spurned ex-fiancé. It surely feeds the implication that Thad’s been working with Domino for quite some time.

 

“You wanted her gone, but you didn’t want anyone looking too closely at _why_ ,” Will says. “For your sake or for your ally’s.”

 

“See?” Domino says, gesturing broadly. “You are capable of thinking slightly bigger.” Will’s eyes narrow into a glare as he scowls. Domino tsks at him. “Don’t be so sour, Will. It’s incredibly unattractive.”

 

“That’s not really my concern at the moment,” Will replies. “What _is_ my concern is that you’re holding innocent people hostage. You wanted Amelia here, and you got that. So why don’t you let Maggie and Deedee go and we can all put our weapons away and talk about what you really want to gain from this.”

 

“It took longer than I expected for you to ask for their release,” Domino notes, glancing at a clock on the living room wall.

 

“You made your point,” Will says. “We can see you’re serious. There was never a doubt about that. Holding them doesn’t serve a purpose anymore.”

 

Domino tsks again and shakes a finger at Will. “Never tell someone that their hostages don’t serve their purposes. If that’s true, what incentive could I possibly have for keeping them breathing?”

 

“Just forget they exist,” Amelia implores. “Let them go and forget they were ever here.”

 

“That sounds lovely, but your little friend would run straight to the cops. And, more than that, her darling little girl got an earful during the attack on City Hall.”

 

“What?” Amelia breathes before turning to Maggie. “They want her to testify? She’s _four_ …” Her gaze flies back to Domino. “It was nearly a year ago and she didn’t see anything.”

 

“Please,” Maggie begs. “Just let me be with Deedee. I need to see her. I need to know she’s okay. _Please.”_

 

“She’s okay because I said she’s okay,” Domino replies in a harsh, unforgiving voice. “For now.”

 

Maggie lets out a desperate keen at that, sagging slightly. The second she feels the press of the blade at her throat, she straightens again, but her strain is obvious. Will’s eyes dart to the clock, trying to calculate when Ellie will get there. His father’s too far away. Jules, too. But Ellie… Ellie’s on her way. Surely it’s been almost ten minutes since they walked through the door.

 

 _“Please,”_ Maggie tries again.

 

Will barely knows Amelia’s friend, but the anguished pain in her voice is hard to hear even for him. He can’t imagine how Amelia’s dealing with it.

 

“You asked what I wanted?” Domino looks back to Amelia, ignoring Maggie completely. “You asked why I lured you here. So, here it is. I want you out of my way. Refuse to testify. Convince your friend that her little girl needs to say she doesn’t remember anything. Without your testimony, the whole case falls apart and my men are off with an apology from the SCPD before the trial even starts. I’m weary of how long this has gone on and I want him out of jail. You’ll get your hospital. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll leave the entire city alone. Crime will drop drastically. The parts of the city under my control will flourish again. I’ll make sure of it. All you have to do is keep your damn mouth _shut._ What do you say, Providence? I’m giving you the key to defeating me once and for all.”

 

“By giving you exactly what you want,” Amelia replies.

 

“Yes, well… No deal is perfect,” Domino acknowledges with an amused air before his voice hardens. “You get everything you want. I’ll disappear, nothing more than a bogeyman for fledgling vigilantes in the years to come. All you have to do is give me my men back.”

 

“Just the two?” Amelia asks. Somehow, the room’s temperature drops several degrees all at once. “Not the ones who tried to kill me in my apartment or the ones we captured in the attack outside the police station?”

 

Domino is good, but nobody is perfect. He swallows, hard.

 

“Yes, well,” Domino says. This time Will can hear the falsity in his voice. “Sometimes it’s better to cut loose ends than attempt to tie them up.”

 

“But not those two,” Amelia notes. “Not the men who killed the mayor... Or is it just one of them that still matters? Is it Meyers? Or is it Ketherington?”

 

The man before them stiffens. It’s so minute that if Will hadn’t been paying attention - hell, if he hadn’t been trained how to see the slightest shifts in people - he would have missed it. But it’s there, and it’s even more telling when Domino purposefully falls into the tiny tell, standing up taller with a drawn out sigh.

 

“I’m bored with your attempts to draw this out,” Domino says. “I want your answer. Now.”

 

There’s not a chance in hell Amelia won’t testify. Will knows that to the root of his soul. She watched a woman murdered. She had her own life targeted multiple times. Now they’ve threatened her best friend and goddaughter. She’s a fighter, his Amelia. She’ll do what’s right, regardless of the cost. It’s part of what he loves about her. But just this once, he wishes she’d go another route. Even if it means letting Domino walk. They can get him another way. 

 

Just this once, he wishes she’d make a different choice.

 

“Alright,” Amelia says, staring into Domino’s mask. “I won’t testify. And Deedee won’t either. You have my word.”

 

There’s a long stretch of silence where Domino just watches her.

 

Will can’t see the man’s face, but he knows the second Domino gets the right read on her.

 

“She’s lying,” Domino snaps. “Kill them all and be quick about it.”

 

A lifetime of training kicks in all at once.

 

The world narrows, his mind gearing up, automatically assessing every threat in the room, what needs to be done first, and when and how.

 

He’d love to shoot Domino, to take him down in Maggie’s living room or at least clip him with a bullet so they can get some blood to identify him. But Will’s first priority is Maggie, the unarmed, untrained, pregnant civilian with a knife to her throat. 

 

Will drops to the side, using the edge of the Maggie’s sofa as cover as he takes aim. He doesn’t hesitate for a second as he shoots the shoulder of the man holding her. Blood splatters across Maggie and she screams, but the man doesn’t let go. Red pours all over her arm as she shoves at him, trying to get away. Will shoots again, this time aiming for his bicep. His aim is true, blood spraying across Maggie’s blouse as the man screams, finally letting her go. Even if he had time to stop and think about it, Will wouldn’t feel bad. Not this time. He’s never liked hurting anyone, but he’s also very aware that sometimes the worst people won’t stop any other way.

 

The man stumbles back and Maggie scrambles away.

 

Amelia is already moving, flipping over the back of the sofa and kicking the gun out of one man’s hands. She keeps going, slicing from his hip to his shoulder with one of her knives. He cries out and she finishes him with a swift punch to his throat. He gags and falls to the floor as blood pours from his wound. It’s deep enough to be messy, but it’s nowhere near enough to kill him.

 

There are some lines neither of them will cross.

 

Will and Amelia work in tandem, fighting to subdue the rest of them.

 

But Maggie hasn’t seen fighting like this before. She can’t know how careful they’re being. Or maybe she just doesn’t care, Will realizes. After all, a mob boss just ordered her murder and that of her little girl. 

 

She runs, heedless of her own safety, down the hall toward her daughter’s room.

 

“Maggie!” Amelia screams.

  
The woman doesn’t break stride much less look back.

 

Amelia doesn’t hesitate to respond. Will’s seen her in battle. Hell, he’s been saved by her. She’s usually careful. She’s _usually_ measured in her actions and reactions, using her training and experience to the best of her abilities. But this situation is the furthest thing from usual, and ice floods Will’s system as he watches her dart after Maggie, racing to give her cover even with four men still gunning for them in the living room.

 

He doesn’t notice that Domino is gone, doesn’t really even care. Not right then. In that moment, he just needs to keep Amelia, Maggie and Deedee alive. 

 

Will shoots one of Domino’s men in the thigh, taking the masked man down. He crashes into a bookshelf, sending paperbacks and knick-knacks flying everywhere, some shattering on the floor alongside the man who fell into them. 

 

It draws the attention of the other three men, but it’s not enough.

 

One of them bolts and makes a grab for Maggie, trying to haul her back. But Amelia’s too close to let that happen. She snags his arm and uses his own momentum to slam him face-first into a picture frame hanging on the wall. Glass shatters, littering the floor with blood-coated shards and leaving a photo of Maggie and Jeremy’s wedding crumpled with a forehead dent. 

 

Amelia snarls, moving to ram him into the wall again.

 

But then a blood-curdling scream echoes from Deedee’s bedroom.

 

“ _Dee_!” Maggie shrieks, scrambling barefoot over the glass in a mad dash to get to her little girl.

 

It’s only cold logic from years of action that lets Will register that there are likely two men in Deedee’s room at the moment. At least he thinks so. There were three on the security cameras, and he’s assuming one of them was Domino.

 

Still, two men might be manageable to him or Amelia, but Maggie’s hurtling headlong into danger with Amelia on her heels.

 

“Goddamn it,” Will snarls, ducking a swing from an assailant before surging forward and headbutting him. It only knocks the guy for a loop for a second and Will has way, way too much that needs his attention. Such as the two men going after Maggie and Amelia. “ _Amelia_ , behind you!”

 

“Maggie, _get down_ ,” Amelia orders. The woman doesn’t listen, but she does duck her head as she runs. Amelia’s taller and she uses that to her advantage, turning so her body blocks Maggie’s as she throws two knives in quick succession. 

 

They fly end-over-end, one hitting its target and lodging itself just under an attacker’s collarbone.

 

He screams, falling backwards.

 

Amelia’s already spinning back to Maggie and grabbing her arm, fighting to get in front of her so that she can run in first. But Maggie battles her every inch of the way, her screams for her daughter deafening… 

 

The second knife smacks into the other man with its hilt, merely bouncing off of him.

 

Throwing a weapon is a last resort, especially when you’ve got more than one attacker. That’s something Will’s known since fifth grade and this is exactly why. Amelia had to have known it wasn’t her best course of action, but she’s more concerned with protecting Maggie and Deedee. He gets that, but reality is far too harsh to be so forgiving.

 

Will watches the man scoop up the knife and throw it right back.

 

_“No!”_

 

It happens too fast.

 

Will’s trying to get free, but he’s weaving in an attempt to avoid being punched by brass knuckles. All he can do is scream Amelia’s name at the top of his lungs as he takes a wild shot at the man who threw the knife. He misses. Even if he’d hit his mark, it wouldn’t have stopped anything. That doesn’t keep him from trying again, but he’s nowhere close. He can’t move fast enough, can’t get clear. Heart racing and fear welling in his throat, all he can do is watch as the knife hurls down the hall directly at Amelia’s unprotected back.

 

They’ve failed. 

 

She’s going to die and he’s going to follow soon after, drowning in grief and anger. Maggie and Deedee won’t be far behind. The day is going to end bloody and broken. His family will hunt Domino down in a quest for revenge and justice. 

 

It’s over. Will feels it as surely as he knows he can’t stop screaming for her.

 

The window next to him shatters.

 

Before Will can even react, a volley of rapid-fire arrows soars through the air. The first one knocks the knife sideways, sending it pinging against a wall as four more arrows follow, striking the last two assailants. They’re kill shots. One arrow lodges in an attacker’s chest, far too close to his heart, and another strikes the temple of the other man, sending him careening backwards as blood spurts.

 

Will knows instinctively he won’t find his father when he turns to the window.

 

A mass of barely-restrained curly blonde hair hovers in the window, Ellie’s sharp blue eyes watching him from behind her mask.

 

“The baby!” Amelia yells, pointing down the hall to where Deedee screams for her mother. Ellie snaps into action, immediately disappearing to race along the side of the house.

 

“Let me go!” Maggie sobs. “ _Deedee!_ I’m coming, baby. Mommy’s here!”

 

“You can’t,” Amelia protests, winding her arms around her friend’s chest and yanking her back. Maggie’s hands, cut and slickened with splattered blood, rake at Amelia’s arms and hands, smearing her with red. “Maggie-”

 

“That’s my _baby_!” Maggie cries in utter, primal panic.

 

Will rushes past them, kicking in the door just as an elbow breaks through the glass of Deedee’s window. 

 

Somehow the little girl has gotten herself under her bed. Will catches sight of her tiny feet and the shine of her eyes looking out in fear with her arms wrapped around a stuffed animal as two masked men reach for her. 

 

It’s like something out of a nightmare and pure, cold rage fills Will.

 

He doesn’t pause before taking a shot, not even to tell Deedee to close her eyes, and neither does Ellie as she swings her bow into the room with an arrow already nocked and ready to go.

 

Something hardens in him as the first bullet finds its mark, slamming into the attacker’s shoulder blade. He doesn’t need to go for the guy’s knees, too, but he does it anyhow. The sickening, wet crunch of his body giving way under the bullets feeds a darkness in Will that he didn’t even know he had. Even as his stomach revolts, he can’t bring himself to care about taking the extra shots. The bastard had meant to kill a napping four-year-old in her bed. He deserves everything he gets.

 

Ellie’s even less careful. 

 

She lands two arrows in the other man’s gut when he swings around to face the threat. They slice into him like butter, and Will doesn’t have to look too long to know the man won’t survive. 

 

His sister vaults into the room as the attacker lurches forward on unsteady feet. A hard thud sounds before a vicious, “You son of a bitch,” falls from her lips.

 

Will barely has time to blink before Ellie hoists the guy up by his armpits and slams him back into a wall. He’s never seen her so livid, but with the danger gone, his focus is on Deedee. 

 

Setting his gun atop the mattress, but keeping it within easy reach, Will gets down on the ground and peers under the bed. “You’re okay, Deedee,” he says, fighting to keep his voice light as he offers her a hand. “I’m Will, remember? Your Auntie Amelia’s boyfriend. You’re okay. So’s your mommy. I promise. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I just need you to take my hand.”

 

But she backs away even more, clutching her stuffed animal with bloodless fingers, trying to make herself as small as possible as she stares past him with wide, terrified eyes.

 

Will turns and his blood turns to ice.

 

Ellie is otherworldly in her fury. “She’s _four_ ,” his sister snarls as the man she shot struggles to keep conscious, the blood draining from his face. She growls and wraps one hand around his throat and the other around one of the arrows in his gut. The man’s eyes snap open and he lets out an ugly gurgle, blood bubbling past his lips. “You’re staying awake for this, you son of a bitch. She is _four years old_. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To go through something like this at that age? To know you’re four years old and people are hunting you down?”

 

“Ellie…” Will breathes in warning, completely dropping her code name.

 

She pays no attention at all.

 

“Because I do, you _bastard_ ,” Ellie grits out, twisting the arrow even more. The guy lets out a pitiful moan, his spittle and blood dripping onto Ellie’s arm. “You’re the worst kind of scum for doing this. Worse than Domino, even, and you’re going to _burn_ for it.”

 

 _“Ellie,”_ Will snaps as Deedee whimpers and shakes in fear.

 

Ellie looks back with a violent, animalistic look that has him instinctively pulling back and covering Deedee. It takes him a second too long to realize what he’s doing - that he’s protecting the little girl from his _sister_ \- but he can see that thought doesn’t even occur to Ellie. She doesn’t care, not right now, not when there’s someone right there to take all her anger out on.

 

But she pushed too hard. The man loses consciousness, sagging in her grip.

 

“Damn it,” Ellie growls, letting him go. He drops to the ground in a boneless heap and she doesn’t hesitate to kick him as hard as she can.

 

“Hey,” Will bites out. She turns to glare at him, her eyes full of a dark fury that startles him. For a second, he doesn’t recognize his own sister, and all he can do is stare at her before she takes a deep breath and clenches her jaw, looking away. Will shakes his head with a quiet, “Ellie…”

 

Maggie barrels into the room.

 

Her hands and knees are coated in blood, her shirt covered in a spray of red that didn’t come from her, and there’s visible shards of glass imbedded in her legs, but that doesn’t stop her from dropping to the floor and reaching under the bed. The maternity blouse clings to her swollen belly like a macabre scene from a horror movie. It’s a terrifying sight, but he doesn’t stop her. Nothing would stop her right now, and Will knows that. Her sobs fill the room, taking over, and Will steps out of the way as Maggie tugs her daughter out from under the bed and into the safety of her arms. Amelia’s at the door a heartbeat later and she sags against the door jamb with a shuddering sob. All the fight drains out of her, her face crumbling as she covers her mouth with her hands, watching on as mother and daughter reunite.

 

“Momma?” Deedee cries, clinging to her mother.

 

“I’m here. I’m _here,”_ Maggie vows, tucking the girl’s face into her shoulder as she somehow manages to shove herself to her feet and backpedal away from everyone in the room. “Shut your eyes, baby. Shut your eyes.”

 

The fear in Deedee’s sobs and the terror in Maggie’s voice will stick with both Will and Amelia for a long, long time. He’s sure of it. But he’s also pretty sure that the look of betrayal and the way Maggie stares at Amelia as if she’s seeing a stranger will stick with Amelia even more.

 

“What did you bring into my house?” Maggie asks in a voice barely above a whisper, watching Amelia with wide-eyed disbelief and horror. “What did you _do?”_

 

“Mags, I…” Amelia looks like she’s been gut-punched. “I didn’t.”

 

“Who _are_ you?” Maggie demands, her voice cracking on a high-pitched edge.

 

“You know me,” Amelia croaks out, moving to take a step toward her. But when Maggie tenses and shoves herself against the wall harder, Amelia freezes. Nothing in the world can hide the heartbreak painted all over her face, though. “You’ve known me almost half our lives, Maggie.”

 

“No,” Maggie says, shaking her head. “I really haven’t. I don’t know you. I don’t… No, the Amelia I know would never do this. She would never bring _this_ to my doorstep. I don’t know you. I… Maybe my best friend really did die all those months ago. Back at City Hall. Because you… You aren’t her.”

 

A broken sound falls from Amelia’s lips.

 

With a pained grimace, Will steps between the two women. It’s too close to all his worst thoughts about himself. He’s never heard them voiced out loud before, but it’s gnawed at him just the same. If someone he cared about said that to him, he’s really not sure how he would handle it. 

 

He’s not sure _if_ he would handle it.

 

“She’s a survivor, Maggie,” he says. “Just like you. Just like your little girl.”

 

“Don’t you talk about my little girl,” Maggie snaps, shaking her head violently as she cradles Deedee even closer. “Not after what she just went through a second time. How am I ever going to get her to feel safe again?”

 

“By reminding her that people like us exist,” Ellie says. Will glances at her and for a second he’s insanely grateful Maggie didn’t see what she’d just done. But she also isn’t wrong. Ellie steps closer. “You tell her that we’re protecting her, and that we’ll do everything we can to do it. That’s how my parents handled it with me.”

 

“ _Protecting_?” Maggie repeats incredulously, her eyes darting between all of them before staying fixed on Amelia. “He attacked us to get to _you._ He tried…” She stops and looks at her daughter as she reevaluates her wording. It’s a heartbreaking sight - Maggie covered in blood and cuts, her face red and agitated as she looks down at where Deedee’s tear-stained face presses into her shoulder. Will isn’t sure if Maggie realizes how much blood she’s getting on her daughter. It soaks through the back of the little girl’s shirt, creating a gory scene as bloody handprints cover up the cheery sight of balloon animals. Maggie turns her accusing glare back on her friend. “He tried to use us as pawns because getting to you was more important to him. How does that _protect_ us? We wouldn’t need that protecting in the first place if you weren’t suddenly playing superhero!”

 

Will clenches his jaw. Now isn’t the time to point out to her that Deedee is set to testify against Domino’s men, which made the child a target all on her own. 

 

“We can talk about that later, when you’ve had a chance to process everything,” Will says. “But for now, I’d like to take a look at both of you to see what kind of medical care you might need. Whatever else you think about us, I’m still a firefighter. I’m well-trained in first aid, and you’re bleeding, Maggie.”

 

She isn’t swayed. “You’re well-trained in a lot of things, aren’t you?” Maggie accuses, her eyes darting toward where he left the gun atop Deedee’s bed. “A firefighter who _shoots_ people.”

 

“I’m not a vigilante,” he replies, holding up his hands. “I’m just a guy who couldn’t let the woman he loves walk into a trap alone. And I couldn’t stand there and let you or your daughter be executed either. I know that seeing people get shot is a shock. I’ve been in your shoes before. That’s something that sticks with you and it’s really hard to process. I get that. And I don’t blame you at all for needing distance from us right now. But you’re also nine months pregnant, Maggie. You’ve been through a very traumatic event and you are hurt. _Please_ let me make sure that you and both your kids are okay. _Please.”_

 

Maggie pauses, her breath hitching with barely-smothered sobs. She’s starting to shake, Will notes. He watches her look down at her daughter, who stares up at her with guilty eyes. “I wet my pants, Momma,” Deedee whispers. “I’m real sorry.”

 

“Oh, God, Dee, baby. It’s okay,” Maggie replies, stroking her hair. She stops with a jolt when she finally realizes she’s leaving smears of blood all over the little girl’s head. “It’s okay. We’re just… We’re going to go to Mommy and Daddy’s room so the firefighter can make sure you’re okay. Alright?”

 

“But…” Deedee’s eyes get huge and she looks around with a fresh wash of fear. “There’s not a fire, is there?”

 

“No, no,” Maggie assures her quickly. “Firefighters do all kinds of things. They help lots of people in tons of situations, and they know how to help if bodies are hurt. Do you have any hurts?”

 

“Yes. I stubbed my toe,” Deedee says with watery eyes, pointing at her foot. “But, Momma, you’ve got blood all over. I’m-I’m… I’m scared.”

 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Maggie replies, barely keeping a sob at bay as her face crumples. She swallows it down, though, giving Deedee as much of a smile as she can muster. “Things are scary, sometimes. But I’m gonna be okay. Alright, baby? And so is your brother. He’s kicking like he wants to kick the butt of someone who tried to hurt you.”

 

Deedee sighs before resting her hand on her mother’s enormous stomach. “He’s a good brother.”

 

The cracked laugh Maggie lets out in conjunction with Amelia’s stuttered gasp for air behind Will is heartbreaking. “Yeah, baby, he is,” Maggie says. “He’s a very good brother. Listen, I need you to close your eyes while we walk to Momma’s room, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Deedee agrees, pinching her eyes shut as hard as she can.

 

Will glances back at Ellie, tilting his head to the door. She nods and slips out to ensure all of Domino’s men are still down for the count before clearing the master bedroom.

 

In the few seconds it takes for her to check the house, Will grabs his gun, sticking it back in his jeans before his eyes slide over to Amelia. There’s a cut he can see, and possibly more he can’t, but there’s also blood splashed across her torso that he knows can’t possibly be hers. He suspects that most of her wounds are the emotional kind. She’s biting her bottom lip so hard he’s sure she’s going to break the skin any minute, her red-rimmed eyes stay fixed on Maggie and Deedee. She doesn’t make a move to them and he can see how much it pains her to stay right there, especially when she glances back at him.

 

He tries to give her a smile. It only pushes her closer to breaking.

 

“All clear,” Ellie calls out.

 

Amelia instantly moves, taking the lead on their way to Maggie’s bedroom, committed to protecting her friend and goddaughter even if they aren’t comfortable with her. Will holds his hand out to indicate Maggie should follow. She hesitates, but he can see she’s starting to fade fast as the shock of trauma sets in.

 

“Come on,” Will urges gently.

 

He follows Maggie and Deedee to the master bedroom. Amelia hovers at the door, waiting for Ellie to reappear before she shuts all of them inside. The room is pristine, untouched by the bloodshed and danger littered throughout the rest of the house. And, for a second, it’s almost like nothing happened. But all Will has to do is look at Maggie’s injuries and Deedee’s tear-filled face to remind him it was all real.

 

“I’ll grab some tweezers and hydrogen peroxide,” Amelia murmurs before darting to the bathroom.

 

Will nods, herding Maggie to the bed. As she sits down, he kneels before her and Deedee, evaluating the toddler first. True to her word, there’s nothing worse than wet pants and a stubbed toe. She’s okay. Physically, at least. The repercussions of this day on top of the trauma from City Hall, though… It’s going to follow her for a long time.

 

He bites his tongue between his teeth to keep from cursing out loud.

 

“We’re going to have to call the police,” Ellie says. Her words barely pierce the fog in his head. “ _Will_.”

 

“I heard you,” he acknowledges before giving Deedee a soft smile. “You are so brave. Do you know that?”

 

Deedee’s little eyebrows furrow. “No, I’m not. I was _real_ scared.”

 

“Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared,” he tells hers. “It means you don’t let being afraid win.”

 

She thinks for a moment before leaning back against her mother. “I think being afraid won.”

 

“No, it didn’t,” Will tells her. “Because you didn’t give up. You hid and you called for help and you did everything you were supposed to do. That’s what being brave is. And you’re a really brave little girl. I hope one day I’m as brave as you.”

 

A scowl that seems entirely unsuited for a child her age overtakes her face. “You’re way braver. You shot the bad man.”

 

“Shooting someone doesn’t take bravery,” he replies. “Not like calling for help does. And something tells me you’re a whole lot better at that than I am.”

 

“I gotta get help sometimes,” Deedee admits with a shrug. “‘Cause I’m little. I can’t do everything by myself yet.”

 

“Can you keep a secret?” Will asks, leaning in a little closer as he lowers his voice. “I can’t do everything by myself yet either.”

 

“You’d better hope she can keep a secret,” Ellie chimes in. Will looks up at his masked sister with a barely-contained glare, even though he knows she has a point. He’s referred to her by her real name multiple times already today. Ellie just presses on. “You’d better hope both of them can.”

 

Will pinches his lips together in a thin line before looking at Maggie. She doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she’s watching Amelia leave the bathroom with first aid supplies in hand.

 

“I don’t know what to think,” Maggie admits. “I need time to figure everything out. I need… I need to process..”

 

Amelia gives her a small, quiet nod. “I know.”

 

“Does Celeste know?” Maggie asks. “Does your mom?”

 

“No,” Amelia replies. “Just Will. And the team. And now you.”

 

“And Domino,” Maggie adds.

 

“Yeah,” Amelia says faintly. “And Domino.” 

 

She walks over and hands Will the tweezers and hydrogen peroxide along with a wet towel and a handful of cartoon band-aids. He wipes Maggie’s hands off as best he can before getting to work pulling out the larger shards of glass one at a time. He covers the bigger wounds with bandages, pointing at them to distract Deedee when he notices the little girl watching his every move. Maggie hisses through her teeth but says nothing, instead kissing her daughter’s head to comfort the little girl when she whispers, “You okay, Momma?” and she replies with, “Yeah, baby girl, I’m okay.”

 

“No contractions?” Will asks. “No pain anywhere but your hands and knees?”

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Maggie replies, her voice strained with pain as Will works. “My back could use a good massage, but that’s not exactly hospital-worthy.”

 

“You need to go to the hospital anyway,” he tells her. “Trauma like this can send your blood pressure rocketing. They’ll need to check you for pre-eclampsia if nothing else. You don’t have gestational diabetes, do you? Any other risk factors? Anything of concern to your OB/GYN that I should know about? Or history with your previous pregnancy?”

 

“No. No, nothing like that,” Maggie says, shaking her head. She stares at him. “You weren’t kidding about taking this seriously, were you?”

 

“I’m a firefighter,” Will replies. “It’s what we do. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you before and I’m not going to let it happen now.”

 

She doesn’t respond, instead watching him closely before coming to some kind of decision.

 

“Deedee,” Maggie says, putting a bandaged finger under her daughter’s chin to tilt her head up. “What did you see earlier?”

 

The little girl’s nose scrunches up and she shakes her head. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

“I know, baby,” Maggie soothes. “But the police are going to come and they’re going to need to hear about what happened so they can make all the bad guys go to jail.”

 

Deedee pouts, but it seems to make sense to her because she starts talking. “I woke up with two big scary guys with masks reaching at me. And I heard you yelling, Momma. And I heard some loud bangs. Then Uncle Will kicked the door open and he shot one bad man. And the window broke and a hero from the news I’m not s’posed to watch shot arrows into the other bad man.”

 

It takes everything in Will not to react to Deedee’s little voice when she says, _‘Uncle Will.’_

 

Maggie nods. “That’s good. And did you hear the hero lady’s name?”

 

“It’s Dart,” Deedee says, her eyes moving shyly to Ellie. “I know ‘cause some of the kids at the park were playing superheroes and the one girl with the blonde hair said she got to be Dart ‘cause she looked like her. I got to be Tempest ‘cause she’s got dark hair like me. And I saved all sorts of people just like Tempest and The Arrow saved me before. It was even more fun than playing like we were puppy dogs.”

 

“That’s good,” Maggie says quietly, brushing her finger over Deedee’s little cheek. “And that’s the only name you know for her?”

 

“She’s got more than one _name_?” Deedee exclaims, her eyebrows shooting up.

 

“Not as far as I know,” Maggie replies, glancing at Will and then Ellie. “As far as I know, the bad men showed up and made me call Aunt Amelia to get her to come here. But she was worried because the bad men have been mean to her before and tried to trick her. So she brought Uncle Will with her. It’s the middle of the day. I guess someone passing by must’ve mentioned something strange going on at our house and Team Arrow heard about it. So, Dart here showed up to save the day.”

 

“That was _real_ lucky,” Deedee says seriously.

 

“It was,” Maggie agrees, looking up at Amelia. “And that’s exactly what I’ll tell the police.”

 

“Thank you,” Amelia manages to say. She starts to reach for Deedee to stroke her goddaughter’s hair. But when Maggie’s hands dart up to shield the girl, Amelia freezes.

 

“You’re welcome,” Maggie says. “But you and I have some things to talk about before I can trust you again. I appreciate what you did. But I need to figure out what’s real and what’s been a lie. And that’s not happening today. Right now, I need space. I need my _husband._ And I need to get my baby girl to her therapist because my priority is my family. I need them safe. I believe that you mean well, but you can’t be a part of that. Not today.”

 

Will glances back at Amelia. The shattered look on her face cuts him in two and he wants nothing more than to reach out and take her hand. But he’s still tending to Maggie’s wounds, and it has to wait. Instead, he casts her a sympathetic look.

 

Amelia tries for a smile, but it’s more of a grimace as she looks down at her toes.

 

“That’s fair,” she says softly, glancing up at Maggie as she wraps her arms around herself and steps back. “You deserve the time. We can talk later. For now, I’ll… I’ll call the police and grab your phone so you can call Jeremy.”

 

“For now, that’s a good idea,” Maggie echoes with an air of finality that has to hurt Amelia. It hurts Will, even hearing it secondhand. “For now, that’s all I need you to do.”


	29. Chapter 29

Amelia somehow manages to hold it together the entire time they meet with the police.

 

She goes through all the right motions, oddly detached and more than a little hollow. She has no idea what she says to them, and she won’t remember later either. She’s pretty sure the officers chalk it up to shock from yet another attack, but that’s not it. Yes, she’d done what she had to do. Yes, they’d saved Maggie and Deedee. They’d even faced down Domino himself and gotten through it with barely more than a scratch.

 

But those aren’t the reasons she stares blankly at the wall whenever the questioning shifts from her.

 

Why does it feel like everything she touches just crumbles?

 

It takes every ounce of energy she has left to keep from giving in to the tears that linger in the back of her throat. Breaking down isn’t an option. Not right now. Not even when the police let them leave. Not when she slides into the passenger seat of her car, letting Will drive them home. Not when she curls in on herself, covering her mouth with her hand and staring out the window in silence.

 

Will doesn’t say anything after his first few attempts to start a conversation get him nowhere.

 

He’s trying, and she can’t even respond. She doesn’t want to unload everything on him, but she could at least _try_ to have a conversation, right? But she just doesn’t have it in her to make small talk right now. It picks at her already fragile state of mind and she has to blink rapidly to keep her tears from falling. 

 

_Not now. You can’t do this now._

 

When his hand finds hers, twining their fingers together tightly on her lap as he drives, she wants to tell him he doesn’t have to reach out to her. But it _helps_ , even if just a little. His touch always has. And the sense of solidarity and support means more to her than she might’ve thought.

 

Still, she can’t bring herself to meet his eyes when they park and head upstairs to his place. She knows if she looks at him, she’ll cry. The last thing he needs right now is her breaking down all over him. He’s dealing with so much already. That doesn’t stop her from taking his physical support when he offers it, though. Will winds his arm around her waist as they walk, and presses his lips to her shoulder. She closes her eyes, leaning into him. She craves those things so much. She can’t say no to them. They make everything just a little bit better, leave her feeling less alone and less like her life is slowly collapsing in on itself. So, she holds onto that, savoring it.

 

Gestures like these, coming from him, make the harder moments a little more manageable. 

 

When they walk into the condo, Will motions for her to stay put while he goes through the routine of checking for intruders. It’s pointless, Amelia thinks, even as she stays silently rooted in place as usual. None of Domino’s men escaped to tell the mobster what happened, which means he probably thinks they’re dead right now. He has no reason to camp men out in their home. But Will’s protective and cautious. He leaves nothing to chance, even double-checking the locks on the windows before he finally relaxes. He heads back into the living room and, when he sees she hasn’t moved an inch, he frowns and immediately heads to her.

 

God, she doesn’t want him worrying about her on top of everything else.

 

And yet, she can’t help but yearn for his touch.

 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he says quietly, rubbing her upper arms. Sorrow slices through her as she shuts her eyes and tries to nod. “You _are_. We did what we had to do. We saved Maggie’s life, and Deedee’s, too. She’s just in shock, and she’s scared, Amelia. When she’s thinking a little clearer, things will be different with you two.”

 

Amelia swallows back the words she wants to say, instead going with a soft, “Yeah.”

 

“This was a win,” he tells her, cupping her face. The light pressure of his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin under her eyes has her casting her gaze back to him. It’s instinct more than anything, seeking him out, but it’s also exactly what she wanted to avoid. The second her eyes finds his, she can’t stop the sob that breaks out. She starts shaking, tears spilling down her cheeks almost as fast and hard as guilt and vulnerability swamp her. She tries to fight it back, but then Will wipes the tears away with a low, “It’s okay. We’re all okay.”

 

“Except she’s right,” Amelia gasps out on a strained breath. The sob that follows is ten times louder than the statement itself. Will’s hands freeze in stunned silence as he frowns at the sudden turn. Amelia’s face falls. She shakes her head, twisting out of his grasp. “I’m sorry, I…”

 

“Hey, no... No, she wasn’t,” Will says, tugging her back by her wrist when she shies away from him. “Talk to me? Please? I’m right here.”

 

“I don’t want to lay this on you, too,” Amelia chokes out, the words tumbling out of her almost as fast as her tears. “There’s too much. You don’t need this. You don’t need my problems on top of everything else.”

 

“Bullshit,” he replies, his voice firm and unyielding as he cups her face again, urging her to look back at him once more. She bites her lip instead, ducking her head, but she does grasp at his shirt, clinging to him even as she tries to distance herself. She needs this closeness. She _craves_ it. She wants so badly to _want_ to give him the distance her instincts tell her he deserves, but right now… Will brushes more of her tears away, whispering her name until she finally looks up at him again through blurry eyes. “I’m pretty sure I need every bit of you, Amelia. Problems and all.”

 

“I’m not… I’m so…” she tries, but she can’t get her thoughts out. She lets out another mournful sob and he touches his forehead to hers. “I’m… I’m so…”

 

“You’re so wonderful,” he finishes for her. Amelia shakes her head in protest, her forehead rubbing against his, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re so caring and so strong and so committed to doing the right thing.”

 

Another sob wrenches out of her as she whispers, “But everything I touch falls apart.”

 

Quiet follows as Will soaks in the words. Her heart lodges itself in her throat. When he slowly pulls back, Amelia drops her gaze, staring at a spot on his shirt instead of his eyes.

 

“That’s not even close to true, Amelia,” he says.

 

“Yes, it is,” she counters, looking back up at him with broken, guilty eyes. “It is. I can’t do anything. Everything I do, everything I touch, I _ruin_ it. I’m a complete and total failure in every way possible.”

 

“What are you talking about?” he asks as his brow furrows in confusion. Or maybe it’s concern. It could be both. He’s such a good man, always worried about the people he loves. And she knows she’s no exception.

 

“You think I’m so perfect,” she replies, choking on the words as she shrugs. “But I’m not and I don’t know how you don’t see it, how you miss that part of me.”

 

“I see everything about you,” Will promises, dropping his hands to run over her arms again.

 

“You don’t, though,” Amelia insists, shaking her head. “Not if you think I’m so incredible, because I’m _not_ , Will. I’m not perfect-”

 

“ _For me_ ,” he clarifies with a small, soothing smile. “You’re perfect _for me_.”

 

“But I’m not!” she snaps. It comes out louder than she means it to and she covers her mouth as she tries to center herself again. She shakes her head with a helpless shrug. “I love you so much, but I’m not perfect for you. I’m not perfect for anyone. I’m barely holding it together for myself, Will. How can I be perfect for someone else? I’m just… I’m just a bunch of broken pieces that cut everyone around me.”

 

He doesn’t seem to know what to do, or how he’s supposed to handle this, and it makes her scrub her face because _she’s_ doing this to him. She’s doing exactly what she didn’t want to do. Will blinks, slowly licking his lips before saying, “It’s been a really rough day. Maybe you need a little time to-”

 

“I don’t need _time,”_ Amelia bites out. “And this isn’t about today. Today’s just the newest piece I broke.”

 

“Honey… You did what you had to do today,” he says slowly. “You didn’t break anything.”

 

“I broke me and Maggie,” she points out. “I might’ve lost my goddaughter forever. I could’ve died if it wasn’t for your sister, because I panicked while fighting.”

 

“You thought quickly,” he counters. “You took risks, because that’s what vigilantes do. It’s dangerous. You did exactly what you had to do to save Maggie and Deedee. Don’t second guess that. You didn’t break anything, Amelia. Domino tried to, but you’re the one who held it all together.”

 

“No, I didn’t! I can’t hold anything together!” she shouts, the words spilling past her lips without any filter. “I can’t get a hospital built. Couldn’t save the mayor. Can’t keep a job I love. Can’t keep my best friend’s trust after more than a decade. I can’t keep myself alive as a vigilante. I can’t take down Domino. I can’t give you…” Amelia’s voice breaks as a swell of nausea hits her, and she can’t stop the sobs that tear out of her throat. “I can’t give you that little house with the big yard and the baby with my eyes because I can’t have kids. I can’t even convince you that I love you enough to stay by your side. And I’m _sorry._ I’m so sorry, because for some reason you look at me and you see this dream girl who has everything together, but I’m not her. I’m not that woman. I never have been. I spent most of my twenties feeling like I was a success because everyone around me manipulated me and I couldn’t even see it. And since then, everything I’ve reached for has fallen apart the moment I’ve touched it. So, I’m sorry to you and I’m sorry to Maggie and to everyone else I’ve ever loved because none of you deserve that and I don’t know what it is in me that’s so goddamned _poisonous._ I don’t mean to be. I swear I don’t. I don’t _want_ to do this, but I… I just do it. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Will. I wish I was her. I wish I was the woman you see when you look at me.”

 

“Oh my God, Amelia,” Will breathes, pulling her into his chest. She burrows into him and he cradles her closer. “No. No, that’s… You’re not seeing any of this clearly.”

 

“I am,” she whispers against the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing,” he murmurs into her hair, kissing her temple. “You’re incredible because you never give up, not because sometimes the obstacles thrown in your way make you stumble. You never quit. Not on the hospital or fighting for what’s right or protecting your friends or being there for me. Even when I push you away.”

 

“It’s all for nothing, though,” she sobs, clinging to his shirt. “It all falls apart every time, no matter what I do.”

 

“Not us.” Will pulls back to look her in the eye again. His thumbs are soft against her skin as he wipes away her tears. “I know you’re not going anywhere. I know you love me. I can’t pretend I understand it, but I know it’s true. And, honey, in the end, that’s the only thing that matters. I don’t care if you wear a mask or not. I don’t care what job you have or even if you take down Domino, as long as he stops terrorizing us. I don’t even need that picture in my head that I had of our future. Because all I need, I have right here in my arms. _You._ That’s it. I need us, whatever that looks like. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need us to have each other.”

 

It’s exactly what she needs to hear. She doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does. And he makes her want to believe his words. _God,_ she wants to. She wants to feel like she’s enough. Like he wants her by his side, like she’s his. Like they belong together. Like she’s done at least this correctly. Like it hasn’t completely shattered beneath her fingertips.

 

“Please?” she whispers, her hands shaking as she moves her fingers along the length of his neck. “Will, I need…”

 

The words die on her lips under his gaze. His eyes darken as they drift down to linger on her mouth before meeting her stare. She tugs against his neck a little until he’s close enough she feels the puff of his breath against her lips.

 

“What do you need?” he asks hoarsely.

 

“Us,” Amelia answers. “I need everything you just said to me. I need _you._ To feel like at least with this, with the most important thing to me, that I’m… That I’m enough.”

 

“Amelia…” Will drifts closer, his nose brushing against hers. Her breath hitches at the gentle contact and then she gasps when one of his hands travels up her back to bury itself in her hair. “You have always been enough. _Always.”_

 

Her lips ache to feel his, but she doesn’t move, waiting for him. It needs to be him. After all, he’s the one who put the distance between them in the first place…

 

The moment his lips touch hers, she whimpers and pulls him closer, desperate for more.

 

It’s striking how much she needs this. And it is a true _need._ Hunger fills her in a way she’s never felt before. For the first time in her life, she knows what it’s like to be truly loved by someone. Will makes her feel special and _whole_ in a way she can’t describe. When she’s with him, it’s like the pieces of who she is and who she wants to be fall into place, completing a picture she can’t quite make on her own. It’s in the way he looks at her, the way he melts under her hands and how he whispers her name against her lips, in the way he touches her like she’s the most precious thing in his life. Having something like that for the first time and then having to cope with losing it has been soul-wrenching. Especially because, despite the distance he’s wedged between them, he’s always looked at her the same.

 

And now, she finds, he kisses her the same. It’s an exquisite torture she can’t describe - intoxicating, addicting…

 

 _Perfect_.

 

There’s nothing about this that’s like the last time they fell together. It’s not about fear and avoidance and unspent adrenaline. It’s the opposite. She’s looking for hope, seeking a grounding force that roots her to the here and now. She’s looking to feel just a little bit like the woman Will sees her as.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, cradling her head between his hands as he works his fingers into her hair. He peppers her lips with kisses, soft and affectionate, the kind that feel purposeful and precise. Nothing about his actions speak to a loss of control or a groundswell of emotion he’s giving into, only to regret later. She might be a shaky mess of feelings and desperate need, but he’s not, and she clings to that.

 

Amelia leans her entire body against his, knowing he’ll keep her upright. He always will. He’s a rock for the people he loves. Part of her thinks maybe she shouldn’t be putting this on him, but in an instant it occurs to her that she gets hurt and angry when he won’t lean on her.

 

Maybe, instead, they should be leaning on each other.

 

“I don’t want you to be anything other than the woman you are,” he promises against her lips. “Beautiful and stubborn and the better part of me. You’re better than any dream I ever had.”

 

Will pulls back to look at her, his hands smoothing over her cheeks, his thumbs stroking her skin with so much tenderness she feels as though she might melt under it. Amelia can’t open her eyes. She’s too afraid everything will evaporate like a dream, that all of his wonderful words will disappear in the light of day. So she bites her lips together and clings to his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she leans into his touch. He presses his lips to her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose. Even before they got together, she’d known he was a tactile man. From pinkies that brushed against each other at a nearly-illicit brunch to the way he held her as they danced together all those years ago before she’d even moved to Central City in the first place… Touch has always been part of how Will shows his affection. 

 

But those first few not-quite-so-innocent touches were nothing compared to the fire he stoked within her once they were finally together. And to have that back now, to have him showering her in gentle expressions of love... It’s exactly what she’s needed, the very thing that’s been missing from her life for weeks.

 

It’s too much and not enough all at once.

 

“Nothing is right without you,” she whispers, forcing herself to open her eyes.

 

He’s already staring at her. “I know. I know exactly what you mean.”

 

“Please don’t push me away again?” she asks, her fingers digging into his neck as she holds on. “Just please don’t do that to us. It hurts too much. It feels like I’m missing a part of myself.”

 

Will swallows hard and his head falls forward, his forehead finding hers as he runs his hands down her back to her waist. He grips her tightly, tugging her closer. “I just want to be okay,” he says. “For me. And for you. For us. You deserve that. _We_ deserve that.”

 

A wet burst of laughter slips past her lips. “I want to be okay, too,” she tells him, lifting her lips to his. She gives him a soft, lingering kiss that sends a thrill shooting through her. Tears burn her eyes again as she opens them and pulls back to meet his gaze. “If we’re going to be a mess, I’d rather we be that way together.”

 

“You’re not a mess,” he says, nuzzling his nose against hers. “You’re brave and smart and giving and incredible.”

 

“I don’t feel that way,” she admits on a broken laugh, ducking her head again.

 

“How is that even possible?” Will asks, using one hand to tilt her chin back up to look at him. “How is it that you can’t see that?”

 

“The same way you can’t, I suppose,” Amelia replies. He blinks in surprise, trying to soak that in. “But you look at me and I can see how you feel about me. It’s in your eyes. And sometimes it spills over and I forget I’m such a mess. You make me feel like I can achieve any damn thing I want. If you’re looking at me like that… If it’s _you_ who’s staring at me like I’m worth everything… Well, then I guess it can’t be entirely wrong.”

 

His eyes soften as he lets his hand slip down, his fingers trailing over her neck.

 

She shudders under his roughened fingertips, the sensitive skin of her throat lighting up under his touch. There’s no one else in the world she’d let drag their fingers along her neck. But this is Will. She trusts him beyond measure and there’s something thrilling about letting herself be so vulnerable with him.

 

His fingers drift down, hovering at the hollow of her throat.

 

“And how do I look at you?” he asks, stroking her skin in lazy circles. It sends tiny bursts of sensation racing through her, goosebumps erupting across her skin as she takes an uneven breath. “How do you feel when I touch you?”

 

“Special,” she replies in a thick voice. “Beautiful. _Loved._ Like I matter. Like we’re connected. No one has ever made me feel that way before. I’m not sure anyone ever could. Before you, I thought there was something missing in me, something making me fail at deepening my relationships into something more meaningful, time and time again. I thought maybe I just wasn’t trying hard enough. And that thought was confirmed for me by.... others. But now I know that wasn’t it. Because with you, it’s been right from the start. No one else has ever made my heart skip a beat or my body ache to be touched. There’s no one I’ve ever known that I just want to hold me all night, or spend all morning talking with because I need to know everything about them. It’s you. It’s always been you. I thought I knew what love was before, but I really didn’t have a clue.”

 

He licks his lips and she bites the inside of hers, wanting nothing more than to kiss understanding into him. She needs him to get this, to _feel_ it. And, more than anything, she’s terrified that she’ll fail at this, too. That she’ll say exactly what she’s feeling only for her words to fall short.

 

But she’d rather give him everything and fail than protect her heart and never risk anything at all.

 

“I didn’t have a clue, either,” Will says, so softly she barely hears him. His hand leaves her neck to run his thumb across her bottom lip. She can’t resist the urge to purse her lips and kiss his fingertip, so she doesn’t try. His breath hitches at the contact. “You look at me the same way, you know. I’ve never quite felt like I deserve it.” She moves to protest, but he presses his thumb to her lips to stop her. “But I want to. I’m going to keep trying. Because I want this, too. I want _us_ more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Pushing you away is the biggest mistake I ever made. Not just because I robbed myself of this, but because I made you question yourself. Never again, Amelia. I promise. I don’t know how we move forward and I don’t know how I get to a place where I feel like I’m whole enough for you, but I know I’m done giving up.”

 

A choked sob falls from her lips as tears fall down her cheeks unchecked. “Really?”

 

“I’m yours as long as you’ll have me,” he says. “Probably longer.”

 

Her knees buckle and he immediately catches her, holding her upright as she bows her head, giving into the swell of emotion that has her in tears.

 

“Don’t cry, honey,” he says, pressing his face into her hair. “I’ve made you cry too much already.”

 

That only makes her shuddering sobs pour out harder.

 

“ _Shh_ ,” Will urges, ducking his head a little to kiss her lips. It’s meant to be gentle, but the way she kisses him back is messy and hard. When they part it’s with a low, “Hey, it’s okay” from him.

 

“I didn’t mess this up?” Amelia asks, needing to hear it again. “I didn’t break this?”

 

“Honey, you haven’t broken anything,” he replies, his eyes pained as they take her in. “You’re a fighter and you don’t give up. You lost a few battles all at once, but you don’t lose the war until you quit fighting it. And you, my love, are not a woman who quits. Not with me, or the hospital, or Domino, or Maggie. I believe in you. Because I look at you and you _are_ special and beautiful. I do love you so very much and you _do_ matter.”

 

“I want to feel that way,” she breathes, arching closer to him. “I want… I _need_ to feel that.”

 

“You should always feel that way.”

 

“There’s no one else who’s ever given me that,” Amelia whispers, winding an arm around his shoulders, needing to be _closer._ “No one else who’s ever made me feel like that.”

 

“I will. Every day,” Will vows, cradling her face between his hands as he looks deep into her eyes. “Every day from here on out.”

 

The promise radiates through her, warming her in places she didn’t even know were cold.

 

Being strong and stubborn in her support of him comes naturally to her, but it’s also been draining. Her own problems and insecurities have taken a backseat in the barrage of crisis management with Will over the last few weeks, more than she’d realized. But how was she supposed to deal with her own problems when he was having a breakdown right in front of her? She couldn’t. But that hasn’t resolved her issues. If anything, they’ve bottled up, creating more stress. 

 

It isn’t until this moment that she realizes just how much.

 

Exhaustion hits her full force and she sags against WIll, letting him support her. That he’s ready and willing to hold her upright means more to her than he’ll probably ever know. She needed someone to fill this role for her. She _has_ needed it, for weeks, and that it’s Will who’s here for her has tears of relief filling her eyes. There’s no one else she wants to lean on, no one else she wants to open up to and be vulnerable with.

 

The reality of it soaks in, melting away her tension and leaving her sapped.

 

“I’ve got you, love,” Will murmurs, holding her against him with one firm arm around her waist as the other cups her face.

 

Her eyelids flutter in a daze as she watches him. He might think he’s broken, but he’s sturdy when he’s there for her. Part of her wonders if he needed this as much as she needed to lean on him so completely. He gives so much of himself to everyone he loves, and it nurtures him in some way, like it does with her, giving him purpose and focus.

 

It’s a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, because Will loves with his whole heart.

 

A shudder hits her at the intensity in his eyes. They’re so close and piercing as they search her face. Her fingers clench at his shirt, making tight fists, holding on for all she’s worth as his gaze drops to her lips.

 

She knows he’s going to kiss her before he does, but he takes his time about it. He rubs his thumb across her lower lip as he stares at her mouth. How he can seem so controlled, so very _patient_ , is beyond her. She’s all shaky breaths and unsteady legs, but he acts like he has all the time in the world… 

 

And all he wants to do is spend every bit of it dedicated to her.

 

She whimpers.

 

When he kisses her, it’s only her bottom lip, a whisper of a kiss that has her groaning. His hand slides back to bury in her hair and keep her in place as he presses soft kisses along the curve of her lower lip. She slips one of her hands inside the collar of his shirt, seeking the familiar heat of his skin against her fingers.

 

Dizzy from the feelings buzzing through her veins, her thumb strokes against his neck as she whispers, “Will…”

 

“I love you,” he tells her, breathing the words against her lips. “You’re wonderful,” he adds, placing a soft kiss on her upper lip before hovering close enough that his lips brush against hers with every word he speaks. “Exactly as are you.”

 

Amelia tries to pull him closer, a whine of impatience getting stuck in her throat when he doesn’t let her. He brushes his nose against hers and holds her close, but he doesn’t kiss her the way she’s craving right now. He’s not consuming her in a passionate blaze. He’s slow and measured, simmering and composed. The anticipation is delicious, but it’s also fueling a desperation in her, building a quiet need that threatens to swell and overwhelm her entirely.

 

Her tongue darts out to touch the slight dip of his upper lip, a tease and an invitation all at once. As dedicated as he seems to keeping this at a glacial pace, he moans and the hand at her waist drops to her ass. He grips one of her cheeks with firm fingers, pressing her flush against him.

 

But he doesn’t _do_ anything.

 

Every last thing about him screams that he wants her as badly as she wants him. From the way his fingers twine in her hair to the growing length of his cock pressing against her to his wide-blown pupils as he stares into her eyes. But despite that - or maybe because of it - he exhibits an inhuman amount of patience.

 

“Love me?” she requests, twisting his shirt between her fingers. The urge to climb him right here and now has her arching up onto her toes, one of her legs lifting to wrap loosely around his. _“Please.”_

 

“Oh honey,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over her lips. “I really, really do. That’s the point.”

 

She whines in frustration just as his lips slant over hers. 

 

Maybe it’s the long-born sense of anticipation or maybe it’s that he’s no more hurried about this than he was when he was placing chaste kisses on her lip, but the experience is utterly mind-blowing. He tilts his head and seals their lips together, sliding his tongue along the length of hers, invading her mouth slowly and thoroughly. Her heart races and her fingers tremble against him. He controls the kiss, cupping the back of her head as he explores the depths of her mouth like it’s the first time he’s kissed her this completely.

 

When they part, she chases his lips without thought, swaying forward. She’s dazed enough that she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening when he pulls back even more and uses both hands to push her hair from her face.

 

“Look at you,” Will says and she blinks at him with thin comprehension. “You beautiful, relentless fighter. You incredible woman who won’t give up on anyone. Not even me. Not even when I give you every reason to. Not even when I deserve it. Do you have any clue what you mean to me?”

 

Amelia tries to think, to tell him what she feels, but words are too complicated right now.

 

Instead she takes one of his hands and presses it over her pounding heart.

 

“Oh yes,” he agrees, staring at where their fingers interlock against her chest. “But that part’s easy. You’re so much more to me than that.”

 

Her teeth tug at her lower lip as she fights the urge to just grab him and kiss the hell out of him. Well, she _tries,_ but she needs him too much. Amelia surges forward and kisses him with a wild desperation she can’t fully comprehend, much less control. Kissing him is like breathing. It’s like air when she’s been underwater too long. Her greedy lips seek more and more, kissing him hard and fast with a shaky sense of urgency. It’s impossible to get enough of him. There’s no such thing.

 

She pushes him back until he collides with the arm of the sofa. He’s not sitting exactly, but it’s close enough that she can straddle his legs. Holding onto his shoulders for leverage, she wraps a leg around his waist, bringing their hips flush together.

 

“Mmm, not like this, you deserve better,” Will protests, pulling away. Amelia doesn’t even try to smother her frustrated groan. This is fine with her. Better than fine, even. She just wants him. How and where doesn’t matter. At least not to her. He seems to be of a totally different mind about it as he strokes her leg and urges it back down to the ground. “I don’t want a quick tumble on the sofa with you. I want you in bed where I can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

 

She starts to reply, but then he moves.

 

Will pushes off the sofa and pulls her legs right out from under her. Amelia squeaks in surprise, her arms flying to wrap around his neck as she finds herself cradled against his chest.

 

His eyes never leave hers as he makes his way to the bedroom. It’s a testament to how well he knows his surroundings that they don’t bump into anything, just as much as it’s a confirmation of how much she trusts him to not let anything happen to her that her eyes never leave his. The single-minded focus of his gaze leaves her hypnotized and breathless as she watches him with growing understanding. And when he lies her down on the bed as gently and carefully as he can before settling on top of her, she finds herself frozen, unwilling to burst the precious bubble he’s built for them. All she can do is stare up at him as he strokes a stray lock of hair from her face. 

 

“When we first met, something told me you were special,” he says, running his fingers down the side of her face. “It didn’t make sense. You threw me and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

 

A smile tugs at her lips and she turns to press a lingering kiss to the pad of his thumb.

 

“I wonder sometimes,” he continues, “what might’ve happened if I knew then what I know now.”

 

Her heart stutters. Amelia swallows hard against the burst of nerves that flutter to life in her stomach. It’s silly, she tells herself. He’s making it incredibly clear how he feels about her. But she hasn’t quite internalized that, not yet. Not after their breakup, not after everything she’s been through the last few weeks.

 

Hesitation has her voice cracking as she asks, “What do you know now?”

 

A smile flickers over his face. It echoes in his eyes as his hand slowly drifts down her neck, setting her body alight with every lazy touch of his skin to hers.

 

“I know you go completely still and lift your chin when you’re nervous.”

 

Color works its way into Amelia’s cheeks on a burst of heat because she knows that’s true. She scrunches her face up at him. “And that would’ve made all the difference back at the campground all those years ago, huh?”

 

“I’m not done,” Will says, lifting an eyebrow at her. 

 

There’s a lightness in his eyes she’s never seen before and she can’t help reaching up to touch his face. Her fingers settle on his cheek, stroking against the full beard he’s grown recently. It’s a little rough and prickly, but it’s Will. And that’s enough for her. 

 

“Go on,” she says, kicking off her shoes. She wraps a leg around his to run her toes up his calf.

 

“I know you can’t help humming along with any song on the radio, even if you don’t like it,” he informs her. She bites her lips together and tilts her head in agreement. “You do this little dance in your seat, too,” he continues, his smile growing. It’s such a blindingly, heartfelt sight that she can’t breathe for a moment. “Or you tap your fingers against the wheel. Especially if you don’t want to sing along, but it’s bubbling up inside you anyway.”

 

His eyes drop to the neckline of her shirt as he pushes the fabric off her shoulder.

 

“I know every damn piece of underwear you own has a matching bra and it’s all sexy enough to drive a man mad,” he says in a guttural voice.

 

Amelia hums, arching her head back. “I can see where _that_ might’ve made a difference.”

 

“No, you don’t understand,” Will says. He’s completely serious as he dips down to kiss the spot next to her bra strap. His beard teases at her skin and her eyes flutter shut in a new appreciation for the roughness. He kisses her again. “I know _now_ why you wear it. It’s armor for you. That first layer of clothing is your secret weapon, part of how you build your confidence and mold yourself into a woman who faces down the world.”

 

Amelia freezes, her breath catching as she lifts her chin when he glances up at her. It’s only when he gives her a pointed look that she realizes she’s backing up his earlier statement.

 

“I know you’re not perfect, Amelia,” he promises her. “And you don’t have to be. I _know_ you. And I love you exactly as you are.”

 

She doesn’t respond right away, but when she does move, it’s to push her fingers into his hair.

 

“Do you know why I understand that?” she whispers after a beat. A rush of certainty and a bolt of something more like excitement than fear zings through her veins. It only grows when she sees his own uncertainty flicker over his face. Amelia runs her thumb along the shell of his ear. “Because I feel exactly the same way. Because I love you. Even the parts you think are broken.”

 

The tension between them snaps.

 

Will surges up, his lips covering hers in a kiss that stuns her. It’s with the same careful precision as earlier, but this time it’s deeper, with more intent. This isn’t about teasing or drawing things out. It’s about savoring, about being together with a fresh understanding of what that really means.

 

The press of his body against hers feels like an anchor-point as much as his eyes. It’s tangible, a thread of connection that leaves her rooted in this moment. She hooks both her legs around his thighs, keeping him firmly in place.

 

Not that there was any risk of him going anywhere. Not anymore.

 

He pulls back, watching her from under heavy lids with absolute wonder before he kisses her again. Amelia sighs into it, draping her arms around his neck, holding on like she never wants to let go.

 

Because she never does.

 

She’s so consumed by kissing him that when his hand pushes up her shirt to touch bare skin, she jerks up against him. Electricity arches through her and she breaks away from him with a quick breath as she falls into the sensation. His hand slips up even further, as needy and hungry to touch her as she is to feel him, and she tilts her head back against the pillow, reveling in it.

 

“Help me get this off, honey,” he murmurs, sitting as he tugs her shirt up. 

 

Amelia stretches out and arches off the mattress toward him, letting him pull the fabric over her head. Her hands immediately fly to his waist, slipping under his t-shirt and pushing it up, silently urging him to help. He lifts his arms and she yanks it off. He falls forward with every intention of pushing her back down to the bed, but she stops him with her hands on his chest. 

 

Will falls still, his breaths short and heavy as he stares at her.

 

She focuses on his newly-bared skin.

 

His shirt is still twined in her fingers and she blindly tosses it away before pressing her palms to his heated chest. Amelia tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she explores, down his pecs, across his abs, along the length of his scar. She’s missed this, missed _him_. She might’ve memorized the feel of his body under her fingertips, but nothing beats the warmth of his skin and the sharp intake of breath when she touches him, or the way he closes his eyes, surrendering to her. 

 

It’s stunning - _he’s_ stunning - and Amelia wraps her hands around his neck to tug his lips down to hers.

 

The kiss is searing and Will instinctively presses into her, sending them tumbling back on the bed. He’s everywhere all at once, and it’s overwhelming, but she wants to do _more._ Without breaking contact, Amelia hooks her leg over his and flips them. He gasps in surprise before grinning against her lips and she returns it, pushing off his chest to sit up so she’s straddling his thighs.

 

She must be too far, though, because Will’s core contracts under her hands as he follows her.

 

Amelia settles further into his lap, wrapping her legs around him as he winds his arms around her and buries his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands span the entire width of her back and his heated palms send a bodily shiver down her spine.

 

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, his beard tickling her as he presses his lips to her neck.

 

She closes her eyes, soaking that in. He does, and he always will, and she _knows_ it.

 

“I love you,” Amelia tells him, laying a soft kiss to the little bit of the massive tattoo he has across his shoulder blade that peeks over the top. “All of you.” Her lips brush against the inky impression of the tip of an angel’s wing. “No matter what.”

 

“No matter what,” he echoes, his voice rumbling against her throat. He follows that up by kissing his way along the length of her neck. He lingers in the place where hands had once closed around her throat in an attempt to kill her.

 

Does he feel the same way she does when she touches his scar? Is he overwhelmed with gratefulness that she survived? That she beat the odds? That they _both_ did? She hopes so. But she doesn’t ask. For now, she tilts her head to the side in a show of trust and love, giving him all the access he could want. His fingers dig into her back at the move and he slows down even more, taking his time, loving every single inch of her. Replacing the bad with the good. Giving her something beautiful to hold on to.

 

The panic and terror she usually feels whenever anything so much as brushes against her neck is gone, and in its place a sharp twist of desire knots itself low in her stomach.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasps as he reaches the underside of her chin. 

 

She’s vaguely aware of one of his hands moving to undo the clasp of her bra. When the pressure of the material disappears, she lets her arms drop and the fabric falls away. Will grabs the scrap of white lace and tosses it aside before skimming his fingers up her body. 

 

He doesn’t linger in any one place. It’s not about her breasts or her hips or her waist, it’s about _her_. He kisses her chin and when she dips her head down to touch her lips to his, he takes one kiss before pressing his forehead to hers. With a sigh of her name against her lips, he slowly starts mapping her skin, touching every inch of her he can reach. She feels like he’s rediscovering her, re-cataloguing everything about her he already knows - the sensitive patch of skin along her side, how tender her lower back is when he brushes his fingertips over it, the noises she makes when he presses his hands to the underside of her arms.

 

It takes her a long moment to realize it when he stops moving, but when she does, when she opens her eyes, it’s to find him staring up at her with a soft look of awe. 

 

 _This_. This is what the girl at the campsite could never have known.

 

But she knows it now. She knows what forever looks like when it stares up at her with open affection and blatant hope. There’s a vulnerability about him that’s new, a trust that gentles the air around them. And her pulse races at the sight of it, her head spinning, because this feels different, like a fresh start… 

 

Like the right path forward.

 

It won’t be easy, and she knows that. They both do, she thinks. There will be bumps and pitfalls, but if they can just be there to catch each other when they stumble, she thinks maybe they can enjoy the road head _together_.

 

There’s absolutely no one else she’d rather have at her side.

 

Amelia smoothes her thumbs over the ridge of his brow before sweeping her hands down to cup his jaw. “You’re better with words than me.”

 

“Sort of ironic considering your field of expertise,” he teases with a lopsided grin.

 

She tilts her head with a small look of warning. _“Still_ … I think maybe you understand what I’ve been trying to say now.”

 

Will’s face softens at that, his smile losing its playful edge. It’s a mask he hides behind so often, that sharp wit of his. But it’s nowhere to be seen now and she drinks in the quiet honesty and vulnerability shining back at her. “Maybe I do,” he agrees.

 

A rush of happiness races through her as she kisses him. She can do that now, she thinks. She can kiss him whenever she wants, however she wants… 

 

It’s not long before that’s not enough, though.

 

Pulling away with a ragged breath and swollen lips, Amelia eases herself off his lap. He follows her like a magnet, climbing onto his knees to deny any real distance between them.

 

It suits her needs well.

 

“Good,” she tells him before she can stop herself. It feels like the biggest understatement ever and it earns her an amused huff from him. Well, she _did_ tell him he’s better with words than her. She has other ways she wants to express herself.

 

Amelia’s hand finds his heart, and she trails her fingers down his chest, his stomach, his abs. She settles down before him, looking up from under her lashes to meet his gaze as she hooks her fingers in the band of his jeans and boxers. His eyes darken, his lips parting on a needy inhale as she leans in to kiss the jagged line of his scar while her fingers find the button of his pants. Will buries his hands in her hair, fisting the strands loosely as she tugs his jeans and boxers down so they pool around his knees. He can’t mask his quiet hiss when his erection bounces free, brushing against her breasts.

 

But when she looks up at him again with her lips still against his scar, there’s no increased sense of urgency. There’s no wild need to sate desire. But that’s not what this is about, is it? He was already as naked as he’s never been well before they started losing clothes.

 

“C’mere,” he says, one hand running down her spine as the other tilts her chin upward. 

 

She rises up on her knees to join him, meeting his mouth halfway as his hands move to free the button of her jeans and zipper. 

 

It takes a little more effort to rid her of her jeans and panties than it had him, but the moment they’re both fully nude, he tugs her back down onto his lap. Amelia wraps both legs around his waist and drapes her arms around his neck. He shoves his hands back into her hair, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he kisses her like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do.

 

They kiss with a passion and aimlessness that’s all their own. The heat of his body is scorching and the press of his skin to hers sends the most delicious sensations sparking and zipping through her. Even though his hardness throbs where it’s trapped between them and she aches with want, they don’t make any move to sate their shared need. The intimacy of this moment transcends their more carnal natures.

 

When their kiss breaks, he sighs softly, nuzzling his nose against hers as he rubs circles against her back. With a quiet sigh all her own, Amelia melts into him. It’s like all the tension has bled out of her. Maybe that was the only thing keeping her upright before.

 

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life,” Will says. “Do you know that?”

 

Amelia smiles. “I have a pretty good idea of what that feels like.”

 

Will shifts them, lying her gently back against the mattress as he spreads out atop her. “I need to make love to you,” he murmurs with a soft kiss.

 

“Good,” she whispers against his lips. “I need that, too.”

 

His eyes never leave hers as he reaches for the nightstand to grab a condom. He doesn’t even do more than glance at the package as he tears it open and rolls the latex down his length. She doesn’t stop touching him the whole time. She can’t. She runs her hands over his shoulders, down the knots of his spine, up his neck into his hair. She can’t get enough of him. She doesn’t _want_ to.

 

Leaning against one forearm and keeping her gaze, Will takes himself in hand and slides into her. 

 

Amelia’s eyes flutter, but she doesn’t let them close as she sucks in a quick breath. She brings her knees up, digging her heels into his backside. It’s not the sense of being filled that sets her heart racing and her lungs gasping for more air. It’s the feeling of completion, of unity. And from the way Will lets out a shudder of an exhale and his neck droops, she knows he feels the same way.

 

She lifts her head off the pillow to kiss the bridge of his nose as he collects himself.

 

“God, I’ve missed you,” he tells her.

 

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Amelia reminds him, stroking his face.

 

“And I am beyond grateful for that,” Will replies, running one hand up the back of her thigh. She slips hers beneath his other one where it rests next to her head, linking their fingers together against the mattress.

 

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes searching his. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this _is_ something she’d done right. She stayed when others might’ve left. She _fought_ for the life she wants with the man she loves. “Yeah, me too.”

 

He starts moving in long, slow motions, easing himself in and out of her body as his fingers close around hers and his gaze locks on her face. Pleasure builds within her slowly, but they’re in no hurry. Their communion centers on raw honesty and blinding affection, soul-aching vulnerability and deep-seated love. Bodily satisfaction can’t compare to that.

 

When the moment does come, when she finally crests and breaks underneath him, sobbing out his name and clinging to him, they’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The knot of pleasure inside her has tightened so much that it snaps thunderously, leaving her shaking and hoarse as her heels slip, digging in against the curve of his ass, her fingers clenching his. She tries to keep her eyes on him, but it’s too much, and they close at the last second. He’s not far behind her, just a few thrusts, but it’s long enough that she’s blinking back to awareness in time to watch him come. His jaw drops as he pants out her name, his face flushing as he rests his weight on one forearm, his hips losing all rhythm. He doesn’t bury his face in her neck, nor does he kiss her as he peaks. He doesn’t shy away at all when she reaches her free hand up to touch his face. He lets her see all of it - every raw, open, expressive bit of his soul on display - and she’s quite honestly awed at the sight of it.

 

Pulse slowing and skin cooling, Amelia wraps her hand around the back of his neck to pull his head down. He moans softly as she presses her lips to his forehead.

 

They’re both exhausted. It’s been a hell of a day, emotionally and otherwise. And she’s not at all surprised when he falls to the side, his forearm no longer able to support all his weight. He slides out of her as he moves, but she turns to face him, hitching her leg over his hip, needing to keep some sense of physical closeness.

 

He stares at her like a stargazer soaking in the night sky. She hopes beyond measure that he can feel her looking back at him the same way. 

 

From the tiny smile that pulls at his lips, she thinks he does.

 

“You’ll stay?” she asks, trailing a finger down his arm.

 

“I’ll stay,” he confirms. “I wanna tell you good morning.”

 

The smile that overtakes her face is so big she feels it tugging at the corners of her eyes. “I’d like that,” Amelia replies, scooting closer and resting a hand on his chest. “You’ve got me looking forward to tomorrow.”

 

“And the day after, and the day after…” he says, letting his voice trail off. “I want to tell you good morning every morning. I want to tell you goodnight every night. And I want to tell you I love you and that you’re incredible in-between.”

 

“Only if you’ll let me do the same,” she replies, lifting an eyebrow at him. It’s a request as much as it is a challenge, laying down in clear terms what she needs from him.

 

“I might not always believe it,” Will admits. “Sometimes my head doesn't let me.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Amelia says, stroking his hair. “As long as you keep letting me say it - as long as you keep fighting to _believe_ it - that’s all I need. I don’t need all good days, Will. No one has all good days. I just need you loving me and letting me love you. That’s all.”

 

It’s a relief when he takes her statement seriously and doesn’t rush to reply. He’s not being flippant and he’s not just telling her what he thinks she wants to hear.

 

But it’s an even bigger relief when his words finally come.

 

“I will always love you. And I will always need to be loved by you, without a doubt,” Will says with absolute certainty. “I can promise you that.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been so happy to see a Monday. Enjoy, guys! This chapter is one of my favorites.

It takes Will a moment to register where he is without Beth’s mish-mash of princess and boy band posters staring down at him, but when he does, his whole body relaxes. He melts back into the mattress with a happy sigh, content and at home.

 

Amelia mumbles in her sleep next to him.

 

She’s kicked off the covers entirely, but she’s still wrapped around him, despite the early-August heatwave smothering the city. Her leg drapes over his thigh and both of her hands rest against his chest. She’s always like this, he realizes. She’s always reached for him, even when he was fool enough to pull away.

 

A light snore passes her parted lips, blowing a lock of hair that’s fallen over her face.

 

He can’t resist reaching up and brushing it back behind her shoulder as he watches her sleep. It’s an incredible thing to stare into the face of the life you want and find it within your grasp. To already have it, he amends, letting a finger trail over her shoulder. Even so, nothing ahead of them will be easy. Being in love and feeling that returned is an incredible thing, but it doesn’t erase their problems. It does, however, make them seem more manageable, and a whole lot more important that they face them instead of hiding or running away.

 

Beating their demons, whether they wear a mask or lurk in the darker recesses of their minds, needs to happen because he’s got a promise to keep. This morning and the day after and the day after…  

 

Part of him used to think of the future as something that would just happen. Now, he thinks the life he wants might be something he has to work for. But, looking at her as her eyes dart around behind closed lids, he can’t help thinking that no matter what it takes, it’ll be worth it. Maybe their future won’t look like his daydreams, but it doesn’t need to. Not as long as they’re together. She’s been at his side for a whole lot of his bad days and she’s always made them better. She’s been there for all of his best days and they’ve always surpassed what he thought possible. 

 

They just _fit_ , him and her. And whatever it takes to hold onto that, he’s going to do it.

 

It would be a lie to say that he isn’t gutted by finding out she can’t have kids, though. 

 

That revelation had been buried in the middle of her breakdown yesterday, but it stuck. They’re barely back together and this is no time to talk about starting a family. But he also knows he wants that with her someday. He’s known that for years. It makes the sharp sense of loss he feels at that part of his dream very real. And if that’s true for him, he can’t even begin to imagine how Amelia must feel about it. She’s as maternal a woman as he’s ever met. She adores children and he knows without a doubt that she would be an incredible mother. 

 

She _will_ be an incredible mother. Someday. Somehow.

 

Until then, they need to focus on healing themselves, on building a strong foundation between them so they can create that life together. A life for them and any children they bring into it with them.

 

It won’t be easy. It will be hard and joyful, frustrating and rewarding, leaving them both impossibly raw and achingly complete.

 

And it’ll all be worth it. 

 

Amelia’s sudden, sharp inhale pulls him from of his thoughts. Her face scrunches up as she stretches before her eyelids flutter open. It takes her barely a second to realize he’s there, but when she does she pauses, blinking again before a quiet smile curves her lips.

 

“Hey,” she whispers.

 

“Good morning,” Will replies. Her smile turns up about a thousand watts at his greeting and he offers her a lopsided grin as he adds, “I love you. You’re incredible.”

 

She huffs, biting her lip as she tucks her head under his chin and hugs him. “You’re really gonna do that every day?”

 

“I really am.”

 

Amelia laughs against his neck and shakes her head. She thinks he’s ridiculous, but it’s such an easy thing to do, such a simple way to remind her how much she means to him. And, he’s pretty sure she needs that reminder. She’s the best part of his world. It would be more ridiculous not to make sure she knows that every single chance he gets.

 

“Well, I love you, too,” she reminds him, tilting her head up to kiss him.

 

Will grounds himself in her kiss, letting the press of her lips be his tether to the moment. The rest of him sags bonelessly against her as she curls around him and strokes his cheek. It’s fortifying, electrifying, and the best damn way to start a morning that he can think of.

 

He opens his eyes after they part to find her touching her lips with a finger. “Your whiskers kinda tickle, you know.”

 

“ _Do_ they?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

 

She narrows her eyes. “William Queen…”

 

“How ticklish, exactly?” he prompts with a mischievous grin as he closes in on her.

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

“What?” he asks, widening his eyes with as much innocence as he can muster. “I just want to kiss your neck. That’s all.” He leans in and she shrieks, shoving at his chest as she scrunches up her shoulders protectively with an adorable giggle. Will tries to get in from a few different angles, but all that does is earn him a pathetic attempt at a glare and even more laughter. He finally gives up with chuckle. “Not a fan of the beard?”

 

Amelia rolls her lips together. “I’m a fan of _you_.”

 

Will snorts. “That’s not even close to an answer.”

 

“You couldn’t look unattractive if you tried, Will,” she replies point-blank. “I like you with scruff and with a beard. And while I’ve never seen you clean-shaven, I’d probably like that, too. I’ll even keep loving you if you wind up with a bald spot and a bad combover-”

 

“I would _never_.”

 

She continues as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “-I just don’t want to be tickled by it.”

 

“By my hypothetical future combover?”

 

“ _Will_.”

 

“My dad still has his hair,” Will points out. “That’s a good sign that I’ll remain combover-free.”

 

“Really? _That’s_ what you’re focusing on? Your future hair?”

 

“No,” he admits, letting his playful side fade in favor of a little honesty. “Not really. No more tickling. In fact… I was hoping you’d help me with something.”

 

A question flits across her face, but she doesn’t say anything as her brows knit together, her lips pursing. It’s cute. She’s fresh-faced and curious. It makes him wonder what she looked like when she was younger. He’d been a bit of a playboy with girls back in high school, but he has to think he’d have been driven to distraction by her if she’d been seated next to him in history.

 

It’s hard not to wonder how different things would be, but somehow, in spite of everything they’ve gone through, he wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

 

“I think it’s time for this to go,” Will says, stroking his beard.

 

Amelia’s lips part in surprise as her eyes skim his face. “You’re going to shave?”

 

“Sort of,” he agrees. “I thought maybe you’d like to do the honors for me?”

 

He sees the second the full impact of what he’s asking hits her. He doesn’t tell her he never really intended on growing the thing in the first place. He doesn’t say it’s a symptom of the way he’d spiraled in internalized pain and apathy to routines and interaction. He doesn’t tell her he thinks he’d be falling deeper into that endless abyss if it weren’t for her.

 

Because he doesn’t have to.

 

Amelia nods, understanding and compassion shining in her eyes. “I’d love to.”

 

“Thank you,” he says on a ragged exhale. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d have cracked a joke, something about her just wanting to avoid getting tickled. It would’ve been easier to handle the weight of his emotions, but it also would’ve been avoidance. Today, he’s cracked open a bit more than that.

 

Will kisses her before untangling their bodies and sitting up, swinging his legs off the bed.

 

“Now?” she asks, sitting and pulling her legs beneath her.

 

He can’t stop his eyes from dropping to take her in. She’s _distracting_. Her nude form right next to him with the early light casting hazy yellowed lines across her body that make her practically glow. But this morning is about a lot more than sex. It’s even about more than _them_. He doesn’t know where the road to getting better will take him. He’s not sure where this path leads. But he is certain that this is a good first step.

 

And he’s ready to take it.

 

“Yeah, honey,” Will says, kissing her shoulder before standing and grabbing some clothes. Boxers for him, panties and one of his button-up shirts for her. “Now sounds perfect.”

 

“Okay,” Amelia replies, taking the clothes. She tugs them on as she speaks. “But you’re putting a blade in my hand before coffee. That’s a risky choice, my love.”

 

He chuckles and grabs her fingers before she can fully button the shirt. Will tugs her to stand in front of him and she gasps, somehow not expecting it. That’s fair, he thinks, all things considered. It’s just one more thing he has every intention of remedying.

 

“I trust you,” he reminds her with a wink. “Besides, I hear you’re pretty good with a blade.”

 

The second they walk into the bathroom, though, his heart leaps into his throat. It’s not _her_ that has him nervous. It’s that somehow, somewhere along the way, the stupid beard has become his own form of a mask. Only, instead of using it to fight, he’s been using it to hide behind. Giving it up is necessary and he knows it. But that doesn’t make it any less scary.

 

 _Being brave means you don’t let being afraid win_.

 

Will doesn’t realize he’s said the words out loud until he looks up to find Amelia staring at him. His heart hammers in his chest and he swallows hard. “The, uh… There’s a razor under the sink.”

 

“I know,” she says, giving him a soft, amused look. “It’s right next to mine.”

 

“Right,” he manages.

 

“Do you have any shaving cream?” she asks, keeping her voice purposefully light as she kneels down to root around under the sink. 

 

Will winces. “I doubt it. I honestly can’t remember the last time I shaved. I have my beard trimmer, but I think it’s too long for that right now.”

 

“It is,” Amelia agrees as she stands back up, holding his razor in one hand and a bottle of something pink in the other. “Good thing I have some shaving gel.”

 

“Am I gonna smell like the produce section?”

 

“It is berry scented, if that’s what you mean,” she says, hopping up onto the counter and tugging him forward to stand between her legs. “I like it.”

 

“Oh, well, if _you_ like it, that’s definitely the only thing that matters.”

 

It comes out like a joke, but he means it. He really doesn’t care what scent it is. The only thing that matters is him taking a step in the right direction by ridding himself of the beard. Well, that and having Amelia by his side.

 

She chuckles under her breath and he watches her reach to the side to turn on the water. Steam rises up and she grabs a washcloth, drenching it. “Lean in toward me,” she instructs. He does just that, only to be greeted with a kiss. It’s soft and affectionate as her fingers stroke his cheek. “For the record, I really do love you with or without the beard.”

 

“But you prefer the scruff,” he tells her with a knowing smile.

 

“God, yes,” she admits with a mournful sigh. 

 

He chuckles and rests his hands against the bare skin of her thighs. Laughter stops when she takes the washcloth and runs it over his face. He closes his eyes, his fingers tightening reflexively against her legs as she works the scaldingly hot wet cloth across his face. She’s slow about it, methodical even. He keeps his eyes closed until the cloth falls away. And then he finds her staring at him as she dispenses some shaving gel onto her palm before working it into a lather.

 

“I’ve never seen you clean shaven,” Amelia notes, spreading the lathered gel on one cheek. “Not even when we first met.”

 

“Might be nice,” he says, gripping her tighter at the uneasiness that fills him. “Sorta like a fresh start... Or something.”

 

“Exactly like a fresh start,” she agrees as she goes back for more gel.

 

“And the scruff will grow back quickly. A few days. Maybe a little longer to really fill in nicely.”

 

Amelia raises an eyebrow. “Do I get to trim that, too?”

 

“You’re asking if you can touch me more?” he asks, craning his neck so she can get at the underside of his jaw. “Yes, Amelia. The answer is always yes.”

 

She laughs and shakes her head before inspecting her work, making sure she covered everything she needs to. She rinses her hands before picking up the razor. After that, there’s very little talking and no more laughter. She’s all business and it roots him in place.

 

Unbidden, flashes of the bottles he has hidden around his condo flicker through his mind.

 

Maybe if he can do this, he thinks, then maybe… 

 

Will shuts his eyes against the thought, pushing it aside for now. His heart pounds in his throat as she works, cutting away weeks of barely-trimmed hair bit by bit. There’s no rush about her at all. She works with tremendous precision and care, guiding him to tilt his head as she needs with the barest pressure of her fingertips. There’s something freeing about it. He puts himself entirely in her hands and he knows he’s better for it. It’s comforting and he gets lost in the feel of the razor blade scraping against his skin, her gentle touch, the warmth of her thighs under his palms… 

 

Right up until she’s stroking his face with the hot, wet washcloth all over again.

 

Even then it takes a moment after he’s opened his eyes to realize she’s done.

 

“There you are,” Amelia says, brushing away stray bits of shaving gel. “I’ve missed you.”

 

His eyes drift past her to his own reflection. She casts a glance over her shoulder to watch him soaking in the sight of himself.

 

Physically, he supposes there isn’t a wildly big difference between how he looks now and how he looked a month ago. But he can still see it. And the sharp contrast to the man he was a _week_ ago is undeniable. There’s no artifice about him now, no hollowed-out, haunted eyes, no mask of his own making to hide from himself and the world. 

 

It’s just… him.

 

Him and her.

 

Will meets her eyes in the mirror. “Thank you.”

 

“Thank _you,”_ she replies.

 

All he can do for a beat is stare at her. She means it. All the times he’s pushed her away when she wanted to be there for him, this is what he was missing out on. It’s what _they_ were missing out on. She’s a remarkable woman for so many reasons, but at the top of that list is how committed she is to them supporting each other. There’s no motive behind it, no keeping score. It’s just part of how she loves. 

 

He honestly can’t believe how lucky he is that she chose _him_.

 

“I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have when I broke things off before,” he tells her.

 

She flinches. It’s small, but he sees it anyway as a lance of pain shoots through her eyes. He did that. That’s _his_ fault. But instead of giving into the urge to convince himself that means he doesn’t deserve her, he tells himself it means he has to do better, to keep working toward making it up to her.

 

“It’s okay,” Amelia replies.

 

She seems smaller somehow as she says it.

 

Will tugs the bottom of his shirt where it rests against her thighs to get her to look him in the eye instead of using the mirror as a buffer. When she looks back at him, he can see the damage his words had inflicted.

 

“It’s not,” he says.

 

“You meant them at the time,” she reminds him, biting her lips together and giving a small shrug. “I know some of that was because of what you were going through… what you’re _still_ going through. But you don’t need to apologize to me for how you felt.”

 

“I do,” Will insists, cupping her face, ensuring her gaze stays on him. “Amelia, I do.”

 

She surprises him by letting loose a puff of laughter. “Do you remember when I first kissed you?”

 

“Always and forever,” he replies without hesitation. “My coffee was terrible and your nose was cold. I was terrified I was about to wake up.”

 

“I wanted to apologize to you and you wouldn’t let me,” Amelia reminds him. Her hands find his chest, her warm palms rest flush against his skin as she stares into him with an intensity that emphasizes the weight of her words. “I knew I’d hurt you. I hadn’t meant to, but I did anyway. And it was mostly because I was too scared to take risks and too confused about my own life. But I didn’t apologize to you because I felt like I deserved your forgiveness, Will. I did it because I needed you to know that I accepted that it was my own fault, that I couldn’t blame anyone but me for the way I hurt you. And because you deserved better than the way I treated you, even if it wasn’t intentional.”

 

He hadn’t thought of if that way. Will can only blink, his tongue heavy as he manages, “Yeah.”

 

“Thinking about that…” she continues, her gaze dropping to stare at her thumbs where they stroke back and forth against his chest. Her voice grows quieter as she continues, “Maybe both of our apologies make sense. Neither one of us is perfect. We’ll mess up. We’ll hurt each other sometimes, even if we don’t mean to. That’s just life. But maybe… Maybe not dismissing the pain from things like that is how we get through them.”

 

His breaths come so shallowly that he’s not sure his lungs are working right. But then she looks up at him, seeking affirmation, and it forces a full breath into his body. “Maybe,” he agrees. “Thank you. For your apology. Being pushed aside and passed over for so long really did hurt.”

 

Amelia nods, swallowing hard enough that he sees the muscles of her neck working. “Thank you for yours. It was really hard feeling like I still hadn’t earned your trust, after all this time.”

 

“You have it now,” Will tells her. “You know that, right?”

 

“I do,” she replies, leaning forward to press a kiss over his heart. She sighs and his eyes slip shut at the sensation of her heated breath dancing over his skin. Amelia leans in closer, resting her cheek against him. “I do. And even if it hurt like hell, maybe we had to go through all that to get to where we are now.”

 

He strokes her hair before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Maybe we did.”

 

There’s so much work left to be done, so much for them to figure out, to work through. But they _will,_ and regardless, this is a hell of a start. Will lets himself hold her for a long moment, soaking in her affection and love as energy to fuel him through everything yet to come.

 

“Coffee?” he asks after a few minutes.

 

“Yes, please,” she replies, not moving right away.

 

“Good,” Will says. She still doesn’t move. He grins and kisses the top of her head again before tugging on her hair to get her to look up. When she does, he kisses her. He lingers, because he can. “Get ready. I’ll make some and we can have breakfast together before I head out.”

 

Her eyebrows fly up. “You’re going somewhere?”

 

“Just a few errands,” he assures her. “I’ll be back in time for a late lunch.”

 

“Okay.” Amelia urges him back and hops down from the counter. “I’ll make some of that pasta you like.”

 

His stomach rumbles. “With the sauce and the chickpeas?”

 

She laughs, poking at his abdomen. “Yes, with the sauce and the chickpeas. I promised Bradon I’d make some.”

 

“Who?” Will asks, not doing the best job at keeping the wary note from his voice.

 

“One of the bodyguards Digg put on me,” she replies. “Tall, beefy guy with the flat-top hair.”

 

“That’s not all of them?”

 

“ _Will_.”

 

“Fine, fine, I guess I can share my pasta with Bradon,” he relents. “Since he is protecting you.”

 

“How generous of you.”

 

She bats him away before turning to clean up the bathroom. Even with a plan in place, Will doesn’t move for a moment, watching her instead. He feels lighter, like he’s not only shed the physical weight of the mask he bore for so long, but an emotional one as well. If he wanted to ask her for more, now’s the time. 

 

But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. 

 

It’s every bit as nerve-wracking as losing the beard, he realizes with a silent huff. Will’s eyes find his reflection in the mirror. The mask is gone and he’s still standing. 

 

“I need to ask you to do something else for me while I’m gone,” Will blurts out in a rush. “Please.”

 

Amelia turns back to him, her brow furrowed in concern. But she doesn’t say anything, just nodding, prompting him to continue.

 

“I need to ask you to get rid of all the alcohol in the house while I’m out.”

 

The minute the words pass through his lips, he wants to snatch them back, especially when her jaw drops.

 

_Ignore me, I’m being silly. They’re expensive. It would be a waste. Just because it’s here doesn’t mean I’ll drink it. Just because I have a drink doesn’t mean I’ll have two. Or three. Or a bottle._

 

He keeps his lips glued together, but the handful of seconds it takes her to respond are too long.

 

“I know it’s not fair of me,” he babbles, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together rapidly. His eyes dart away, but he can’t keep them off her, desperate for her to say something, anything, to understand. “If you want a drink, that’s completely up to you. You don’t have a problem and you shouldn’t have to give it up just because-”

 

“I’ll give it up,” she interrupts without hesitation.

 

Will freezes. “You will?”

 

“Of course I will,” Amelia says. The ease with which she says it floors him as much as it makes him insanely envious. She looks like she’s going to step toward him, but she changes her mind, somehow knowing he needs to do this on his own. Instead she leans back against the bathroom counter. “Look, I like a drink with friends or maybe a glass of wine to wind down now and then, but I don’t need it. You’re so much more important. We’ll build different routines, find other ways to socialize or relax. We can do that, no problem.”

 

All he can do is stare at her in quiet astonishment. How in the hell did he ever get so lucky to find her?

 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” she adds. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

 

Instinct has him wanting to make a joke to break the seriousness in the air, but he fights back against it. “It wasn’t,” Will admits. “It’s _not._ My dad would say that’s how you can tell something’s worth doing... If it’s hard.”

 

“Your dad’s a smart man.”

 

“He is.” Will takes a long, slow breath to steady himself. “Did you want anything for breakfast with your coffee?”

 

“I’m not that hungry. Just some toast with peanut butter?”

 

The words come out so light, as if he hadn’t asked her for something incredibly monumental.

 

“Sure,” he replies, reaching out for her hand. She meets him halfway, clasping his fingers in hers. He squeezes before turning to leave the room. But then he pauses. “There’s… When you get rid of it all, there’s a bottle of whisky behind some blankets under the television. I just…”

 

“I know,” she says, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her. 

 

Will flinches. When he glances back at her, he expects anger or judgment or disappointment, but he finds nothing of the sort. All he sees is pride and a strained look of sadness on her face.

 

“You do?” he can’t help but ask.

 

“I found it weeks ago,” she tells him. “But I’m really glad you brought it up. That’s the only one?”

 

That he’d hidden, she means. Is it the only one he’d squirreled away _just in case_ like it was emergency supplies? 

 

“Under the sofa, too,” he says, gripping her fingers too tight. “I… I had more, but… I drank them. It’s just those two now.”

 

Amelia steps closer this time, wrapping her other hand around his forearm, cradling his arm to her chest in a move of blatant support. “You’re really serious about facing things today, aren’t you?” 

 

It’s the respect on her face that stuns him the most. It also gives him strength.

 

“And the day after and the day after,” he replies. He has a promise to keep, after all.

 

Her lips twitch into a half smile as she squeezes his fingers again. “Maybe for now we focus on today. One brave moment at a time. I think maybe that’s how we _get_ to the day after.”

 

Will brings their joined hands up to his lips, kissing her fingers with a quiet, “Okay.”

 

As mornings go, this one has been cathartic and exhausting, but oddly liberating at the same time. And, as he makes them coffee and pulls out the toaster, he finds himself stroking the newly-bared skin of his chin, thinking about what comes next. 

 

There are more battles to be fought today. 

 

Despite that, they take their time over breakfast, sipping their coffee and chatting about lighter things as her thumb rubs back and forth across his knee. He texts Jules after the first cup, asking her to come by to keep Amelia company while he’s out.

 

_JQ: Learn how to text like an actual human, dorkface. I’ll be there in 20._

 

It’s not long at all before she’s knocking on his door. When he opens it to greet her, she actually steps back, slack-jawed, her eyes comically wide.

 

“What the hell happened to your face?” she asks.

 

Will gives her a glib look. “Hello to you, too, Jules.”

 

“Hi,” she says flatly, still staring as she enters the room. He shuts the door, giving her room to circle him. He rolls his eyes, but she doesn’t stop. “Not that I’m objecting to you ditching the castaway look, but whoever dipped you in the fountain of youth kept you in there way too long. You’re like… fifteen, maybe.”

 

“You’re hilarious,” Will rumbles, rubbing his chin before turning to Amelia. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she agrees, taking his outstretched hand. He pulls her close and cups her face before kissing her. He draws strength from it, from her and how easily she melts against him, even having seen him at his worst.

 

He’s going to need it today.

 

“Love you,” he murmurs when they part.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Hold up,” Jules interrupts loudly, slicing through the moment. “I have questions.”

 

Will laughs. It’s a light, happy sound that he knows Jules hasn’t heard from him in some time. Her surprise seems to quadruple before his eyes as she stares at him. When nobody says anything, she wordlessly gestures for someone to start giving her details.

 

“Guess you two have some things to talk about while I’m gone,” Will says with a wink as he leaves.

 

He can’t make out what they’re saying as he heads down the hall, but he can tell from the tone of Jules’ muffled voice that she’s teasing, and then Amelia actually _giggles_. It’s an amazing thing to hear her so happy, even with everything else going on, and it has him grinning, too. Knowing he had a part in that makes the world seem brighter, makes his heart lighter, and he wants to feel more of that.

 

Even if it takes work to get there.

 

When he gets to his car, the bundle of nerves that were easy to ignore with Amelia there to distract him suddenly rear their ugly little heads. He sits for a long moment, trying to prioritize everything he needs to do. In the end, he goes with the least draining option first, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contact list to make a call.

 

It only takes two rings before someone answers.

 

“Will?” There’s no lack of reservation in her voice, even though she’s only spoken one word. “What’s wrong? Is Domino-”

 

“It’s fine, Maggie,” he interrupts, wincing as he realizes that of course a call from him would concern her, especially after yesterday. “This isn’t about Domino.” Complete silence is all he gets in return. It lingers long enough that he checks his phone to see if she’s hung up. “Maggie?”

 

“This is about Amelia,” she says.

 

“Well, first I thought I’d call to see how you are,” Will replies. “I considered going by your house, but I figured-”

 

“It’s an active crime scene,” Maggie bites out, her voice wavering like she might burst into tears at any moment. “My _home_ is unsafe and locked down by police. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

 

“No, not really,” he admits. “But Amelia does.” Maggie sighs with so much tension and strain that Will swears he can feel it. “You’re okay? Deedee?”

 

“They kept me overnight for observation,” Maggie replies. “They talked about inducing me, but I was pretty firmly against that. At least I know where one of my kids is at all times for now. At least I know he’s safe.”

 

Will cringes, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window of his car. He completely understands where she’s coming from, especially in the immediate aftermath of an attack like what she went through yesterday.

 

“And Deedee?” he asks.

 

“Physically she’s fine,” Maggie tells him. “But how’s she supposed to deal with this? It’s not fair. I don’t want this for her. I don’t want it for any kid, but definitely not for my baby girl.”

 

“Maggie… You have to know Amelia doesn’t want that either,” Will points out. “She’d do anything in the world to protect you and Deedee.”

 

“She shouldn’t have to!” Maggie shouts before reining her voice in to a near whisper. “She almost died for me. She almost _killed_ for me. I’ve known her since we were teenagers, Will. We’ve been there for each other through everything. _Everything_. I just never thought we’d go through something like this.”

 

Will blinks, thinking through her words as he sits up again. “You’re not mad at her,” he realizes. “Not really.”

 

“I’m…” Maggie stops and lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what I am. I’m terrified. I’m a week away from being nine months pregnant. My hormones are everywhere and someone is trying to kill my little girl because I brought her to work with me and she heard things she shouldn’t have.”

 

“There was no way you could’ve known what would happen that day.”

 

“Does it matter?” she demands. “I put her in danger. And she’s going to deal with this for the rest of her life because of it.”

 

“The person to blame here is Domino,” Will reminds her. “Not yourself and not Amelia. We can’t erase what happened, but we can hold him accountable and keep him from doing more. That’s why Amelia’s doing what she’s doing.”

 

“I know that,” Maggie admits. “Rationally, at least. But… I just…” Her voice breaks away with a sigh. “Why did you call me, Will?”

 

He pauses, thinking through how he wants to say what he needs her to know. “This is hard on Amelia, too,” Will finally says. “You know her. You know she doesn’t show that easily. But I have no doubt that she’s scared she lost you after yesterday.”

 

“She can’t lose me,” Maggie replies. Her voice dims, low and exhausted, but her conviction rings out loud and clear.

 

“I think she needs to hear that.”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie agrees. “Yeah, probably. But that isn’t a phone call conversation. And they’re putting us under federal protection until after the trial.”

 

“Good,” Will says, taking a deep breath. He hadn’t realized how much of a weight he’d been carrying, wondering what will happen next when Domino realizes they’re all still alive. “That’s good. You can talk to her after the trial, then. That’s… It’s not far off now.”

 

“Three days,” Maggie confirms.

 

Will swallows against a lump in his throat at the reminder. He’d sort of been actively avoiding thinking about it. The closer they get to the court date, the more dangerous Domino is likely to become. Failing to kill them yesterday might’ve set him back slightly, but it’s not like he won’t try again.

 

“And if anything happens,” Maggie continues. “I have an actual superhero on my speed dial.”

 

“She really is, you know,” Will says.

 

Maggie’s quiet for a beat before she says in a soft voice, “You almost sound proud.”

 

Will huffs out a noise of disbelief. “I’m actually scared all the time. But I get to watch her take charge of her life and grow into a stronger version of herself. It’s a pretty incredible thing.”

 

“Sounds like it,” she agrees distantly. “Thanks for calling. I’ll tell Deedee that Uncle Will says hi.”

 

“Thank you,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips at the honorary title. “Take care of yourself, Maggie.”

 

“I will. Take care of her, Will,” she replies before hanging up.

 

“I will,” he says, voicing the promise even if she isn’t there to hear him. 

 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Will sets his car to drive the familiar path to the brownstone.

 

He doesn’t need to pay attention to the roads, but he does anyway. Self-drive or not, he needs to focus on something right now because the nerves that had been laying low in his stomach are slowly building up to a riotous flurry of anxious energy.

 

As he gets closer to his parents’ house, his hands start sweating. 

 

_They might not even be home. I should’ve called first. Or maybe they’re sleeping, I don’t want to wake them. I shouldn’t bother them, right? I can come back later. This isn’t that important. It can wait…_

 

But Will steels himself against the voice. It sounds too much like the part of himself that speaks up when he needs a drink - _just one, you can do just one, you won’t need another_.

 

He’s done letting that voice win.

 

Deciding that doesn’t make it any easier, though.

 

His hands shake as he parks in front of the house, and it doesn’t get any better as he jerks himself out of the car only to linger in the front yard. He tries half a dozen times to move to the front steps, but he stops, spinning in a tight circle before changing his mind and trying again… Only to fail once more. God, he must look crazy. The neighbors are probably all watching through their blinds while tweeting that the oldest Queen kid has finally lost his mind. His dad’s gonna come out any minute and ask if he’s trying to wear a hole in the pavement.

 

But those thoughts aren’t what get him to finally make the decision to move.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out.

 

_AP: Can you grab rotini noodles while you’re out? I need them for lunch._

 

It’s a simple, basic message followed by a simple, cute kissing emoji. But behind it is Amelia’s beautiful face smiling at him through the cracked screen he never replaced. Will runs his finger over the groove of the spider web pattern in the glass where it distorts her message.

 

With a deep breath, he pockets his phone, walks up the front steps, and rings the doorbell.

 

The house is massive and it takes a long minute before someone answers the door. When he finally hears footfalls trotting down the stairs, they somehow manage to thud in time with the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat.

 

“Will?” his father asks as he tugs the door open with a raised eyebrow. “Lose your key?”

 

“No, I just…” Will licks his lips and rubs his palms against his jeans. It’s been a while since he felt like a child, but standing in front of his father with confessions on his tongue certainly does the trick. “Can I come in?”

 

“Of course,” his dad replies, clearly trying to make sense of what’s going on. He steps aside, holding the door wide open. “It’s your house, too, Will. Always has been. You’re welcome anytime.”

 

“Thanks,” Will says, ignoring the instinctive urge to joke about his father having to say that at all. He steps in, fidgeting, rubbing his thumb and index finger together.

 

“You hungry?” his dad offers as he shuts the door behind them. “I made a breakfast scramble after Felicity insisted on trying her hand at omelettes again.”

 

“No, I’m… No.”

 

Silence fills the living room.

 

Will has no idea where to start with any of this.

 

“You look good,” Oliver says.

 

“I’m not,” Will blurts out. It’s probably the most inelegant way to begin this conversation, but he can’t hold his tongue any longer and he’s petrified he’s going to chicken out.

 

Worry creases his father’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did Domino-”

 

“I’m an alcoholic.”

 

The words tumble out in a graceless heap and Will immediately braces, waiting for anger or disgust. He gets neither. Instead, there’s only a soft look of compassion in his father’s eyes. Oliver simply nods, standing in absolute silence, making it clear he’ll wait as long as it takes for Will to find whatever words he needs to say.

 

That in and of itself has tears filling Will’s eyes.

 

“I didn’t mean to be,” Will admits, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to watch his dad. “It was just sometimes at first. When I couldn’t sleep, or I didn’t want to think. Maybe it was a bad day at work. I just needed an escape. But you can’t escape your own head. Everything you try to hide from is right there waiting for you when you sober up again. And I told myself it wasn’t a problem, because it was just me. I don’t… I don’t get angry when I drink. I’m not mean. I don’t hurt anyone. I’ve never been dumb enough to drive or work when I’m not sober. I always thought… What’s the harm? I’m the only one paying the price, right? But I’m tired of hurting myself. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

 

Will’s hands tremble harder and he has to blink rapidly to keep his tears at bay. Shame eats at his chest and he bites the tip of his tongue so hard he nearly draws blood. He’s never said any of this out loud, not even to himself. He’s barely let himself _think_ it, much less voice it, and it’s even worse than he could have imagined. What must his dad think?

 

He shifts restlessly before finally chancing a glance up at his father.

 

He doesn’t expect to be greeted by a smile.

 

“You’re such a good man, Will,” Oliver says, gripping the back of his son’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m really proud of you.”

 

Will tries to fight the tears, but he can’t. He lets out a sob against his dad’s shoulder as he leans into his father’s strength, hugging him back. Another sob follows, half-relief and half-disbelief. He’s _proud_ of him. It feels misplaced, but Will still takes it. He knows his father loves him no matter what, but this is still a lot. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed the positive affirmation - especially from his dad - until now.

 

“That was hard, I know it was,” his father says, hugging him tighter. “But I’ve got your back, okay? You’ve got whatever support you need.”

 

He doesn’t know what that looks like yet, doesn’t have any idea how this works, but Will still nods. He’s heard talk on television shows about meetings and twelve-step programs, but it’s all bogged down in dramatic narratives that mask reality. 

 

For right now, it helps knowing he can lean on his loved ones, more than he ever thought it could.

 

“Come on, let’s sit down,” Oliver says, stepping back. He leaves his arm around Will’s shoulders, though, and Will follows along without thinking. He’s more than content to let his dad take the lead as they head into the kitchen. “You want a glass of water? Or iced tea?”

 

“Tea would be great, Dad, thanks,” Will replies as he drops onto a barstool. He sags as soon as he’s sitting, tension bleeding out of him, leaving him drained.

 

Oliver squeezes his shoulder before moving to the fridge. The sounds of his father rummaging around the kitchen are comforting. It takes Will back to a simpler time and he closes his eyes, letting himself fall into his own memories for a second. The clink of a glass and liquid pouring has him opening his eyes again. Oliver slides a tall drink across the island before repeating his actions, making another for himself.

 

“I would give it a sip before you commit,” his dad advises, glancing into the pitcher. “Nate was by earlier and I can’t promise he didn’t dump extra sugar in it. That kid’s sweet tooth is something else.”

 

“Yeah, well...” Will replies on a sigh. “We’ve all got our vices, I suppose.” 

 

He stares at his glass. The tea’s as amber as whisky and it makes his mouth water and lips clamp shut all at once. He closes his eyes for a long moment before looking up to find his father sipping from his glass as he watches him.

 

“Some are a bit more grown up than others,” Oliver replies.

 

Will huffs. “No kidding.”

 

“You ready to talk about what’s in your head that you were running from?”

 

Will hesitates, but his father neither presses him for more, nor assumes that he wants to change the subject. He just watches, and waits.

 

It’s a long while before Will finally starts talking, but he does.

 

“Sometimes it was just a bad day at work,” Will says, staring at the countertop, but not really seeing anything. “Being a part of everyone’s worst nightmares day in and day out wears away at you. It’s worse when you get caught up in what you could’ve done differently. It’s worse still when it’s a kid. That’s… That’s as bad as it gets. Especially when you lose them. The screaming and the blood and the blank stares from lifeless eyes. It… It’ll haunt you if you let it.”

 

“Yes, it will,” his father replies gravely, his voice heavy with the knowledge of someone who’s intimately familiar with the kind of experience Will’s talking about. “So, this has been going on for a while? Escaping it all with drinking?”

 

“Um…” Will pauses and swallows hard before taking a swig of his iced tea. He makes a face as the overly-sugary drink clings to his tongue. The iced tea tastes kind of awful, but it also gives Will a pang of regret when he thinks about his little brother and the last time they spoke. Will sighs, rolling the glass between his palms. “I can’t say I never did it before, but it wasn’t like it is now.”

 

“Before you got shot, you mean?”

 

Will looks up and gives his dad a short, sharp nod that he probably doesn’t even need to make. His dad knows. He’s known for a while. It’s just gone mostly unspoken.

 

But the time for leaving things unsaid is over.

 

“Yeah, before I got shot,” Will chokes out, forcing the words past his lips. “After that I just… I felt so awful. I couldn’t do a damn thing. I was so useless and such a burden on everyone. And I thought it’d go away when I got better, that feeling. But it didn’t. Because I didn’t get better the way I thought I would. I’m not like I was before.”

 

“Because of the flashbacks,” his father finishes for him.

 

“I’m right there on that floor dying all over again,” Will says, tears clogging his throat as he clutches at his scar, closing his fingers around his shirt in a tight fist. “I _feel_ it. I can taste the blood in my mouth. I can feel the stupid broken champagne glass digging into my hip. Everything about it is real. It’s _real.”_

 

“That’s what flashback are like, son. At least they are for me.”

 

Will pauses, frowning. “You mean how they _were_ for you?”

 

“No,” Oliver says, shaking his head. “This isn’t the kind of thing that goes away, Will. It gets better. You learn how to deal with it. I’ve gotten good at grounding myself in reality, so it’s shorter and less vivid. And I don’t get them as often as I did decades ago. But they do still happen.”

 

Will doesn’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying. It’s _both_. He’s stuck with this forever… But it won’t always be quite so brutal. Not if he does the work to make it better, like his dad has. And, at least he has his father, someone who’s walked in his shoes and looks at him with understanding instead of condemning him like he’d feared for so long.

 

“Do you…” Will swallows against a twist of nausea. “Do you still get nightmares? The ones that really mess you up? Because it sends me in this tailspin and I can’t shake it. Sometimes it has me thinking I should just shut down and cut everybody off before I let it spill out all over you guys. None of you deserve to be saddled with my shit. I’m the one who’s a mess, so why should I ask you guys to help me clean it up, you know? God, even after what you just said, I still don’t understand how you can look at me like that, Dad. I can’t understand why Amelia stays. I really can’t.”

 

“Look at me,” his father orders.

 

Will can’t help but duck his head. It feels like self-preservation, but he’s so damn scared of what he’ll see in his father’s eyes.

 

“Look at me,” his dad repeats, setting down his tea and taking both of Will’s hands in his. Will meets his eye and flinches at the fresh severity to his look. “We are more than the things that happen to us. You are not your injuries and you are not your nightmares. Amelia stays because she loves you. And believe me, as someone who has had the privilege of loving you for roughly twenty-five years now, that is not a burden. It’s a gift.”

 

“Dad…” he protests, weakly tugging his hands away.

 

“If I let myself believe that all the awful things I went through would bleed over onto the people around me, I would’ve never let myself love Felicity,” his father points out. He tilts his head with a soft, but painful smile. “You wouldn’t have Jules or Ellie or Nate. And, Will, I would’ve never gone looking for you.”

 

The ways that would’ve affected him are incalculable. Will doesn’t even know where to begin considering what that life might’ve been like. But he does know he’d have carried his father’s absence with him every day. And he knows it would’ve hurt.

 

“I don’t want that,” Will admits. “I want to let myself be happy. And I want to feel like I deserve it.”

 

“Because of Amelia?”

 

The question hangs in the air for a moment.

 

“No, not exactly,” Will finally says. “I mean, yes, I want to be better for her. I want to be a partner to her. But I also have this whole life right in front of me that I’ve wanted forever. It’s _right there_. I want her. I want to build a life together. But I know that for it to look like what I want, I need to feel like I deserve it, too.”

 

His father’s smile rings of respect and it throws Will enough that he takes another sip of the overly-sweet iced tea to avoid saying more.

 

“You’re gonna be okay, Will,” Oliver says. It sounds like a promise. “Do you know how I know?”

 

“No clue,” Will replies. He feels anything _but_ okay right now. He feels raw, exposed, a little like he’s been run over by a truck several times.

 

“Because you’ve got a good heart and the best motivations,” his dad informs him. “Because you were brave enough to come here and say it all out loud, even though I know your head had to be screaming at you to do anything else.”

 

Will’s shoulders sag in what he can only call relief. It had been so damned hard, and that his father recognizes that as a strength rather than a weakness means more than he can say.

 

“So what do I do now?” he asks. “What’s next?”

 

“You talk to Alex yet? Or your chief?”

 

Will winces. “No.” 

 

“Do that,” his father advises. “You don’t have to go into detail with them if you aren’t ready, but you should have them set an appointment up so that you can find out what you need to do to get back to work. In the meantime, I’ll call the doctor we turned to when Ellie and Jules got kidnapped and see if she’s willing take you on as a patient... If that’s okay with you.”

 

“Yeah,” Will says, and it’s _easy_ , so much easier to agree than he thought it would be. He nods. “Yeah, that’s okay with me. But I think I’ll do that tomorrow. First, I have someone else I need to apologize to.”

 

Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Amelia?”

 

“No, I already did that,” Will replies as he gets up and pours out what’s left of his tea before putting his glass in the dishwasher. He gives his father a hug, holding on a little tighter and longer than he would have a week ago. “Thank you for everything, Dad. I’ll call you later tonight. For now, I need to go have a talk with Beth.”

 

“Tell her hi for me,” his dad says as they walk back to the front door. Oliver opens it and Will steps out only to have his father snag his elbow. “And Will? Son, you never have to knock.”

 

Will nods, his words sticking in his throat. “Thank you.”

 

He doesn’t need any distractions on the drive to Beth’s. His mind is full. He thinks about his father. About himself. About the kind of man he wants to be and the sort of relationships he wants to have. He tries to avoid the big picture stuff. That kind of thing would be overwhelming, so instead he focuses on _today_ , on the here and now. 

 

When he pulls up to Beth and David’s house, a few of Digg’s employees appear out of nowhere, all of them tall, beefy men with flat-top haircuts. Despite his focus, a jolt of amusement hits him and he very nearly asks if one of them is Bradon. He pushes down the urge, though, instead nodding at them in acknowledgement and gratitude.

 

The instant they recognize him, they back off, silently greeting him in kind. He’s glad they’re still here. An abundance of caution seems like a smart idea when it comes to Beth’s safety.

 

When he rings the doorbell, David answers it with a disgruntled look that tells Will his stepfather is annoyed on a multitude of levels. His tolerance for vigilante business is slim to begin with, and his whole world’s been turned upside down in the past few weeks, throwing his little girl into danger. But Will also knows there’s way more to his annoyance than that.

 

“I’m here to apologize to her,” Will says by way of greeting as he steps inside. “If she’ll let me.”

 

“Good,” David says shortly. “She deserves it. Sometimes I think you forget how much that girl loves you. If you need someone to snap at, you can snap at me. But don’t you do this to her again, Will. Don’t you dare.”

 

Will bites his lips as he nods. There’s no shortage of reasons for him to feel ashamed today. But that’s his problem, and one he’ll deal with later. Right now is about Beth.

 

“She in her room?” Will asks.

 

David hums in agreement. “Supposedly playing that educational game they do at school.”

 

“What’s she really doing?”

 

“Probably watching that new pre-teen Disney movie for the twentieth time this week.”

 

That’s always been a comfort thing for Beth. She escapes in fairytales and daydreams, stories of princesses who lost their moms, but found true love and lived happily ever after. The idea that she’s been watching them on repeat lately has him wincing with guilt.

 

He hadn’t really only been hurting himself after all, had he?

 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Will says, clapping his stepfather on the shoulder before heading down the hall to Beth’s room.

 

The door’s cracked open and he can hear the low voices of Disney’s newest tween starlet singing, even though Beth’s wearing headphones. He slowly pushes the door open, giving her every opportunity to notice and tell him to get out. But she doesn’t even look up. It takes a long moment for her to finally realize he’s leaning against her door frame. But when she does, she jumps and throws her tablet under her pillow, yanking her earbuds right out of her ears.

 

As if that does anything at all to mask what she’d been doing.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” she demands, crossing her arms and setting her jaw as she glares.

 

“Apologizing,” he replies. “If you’ll give me the chance.”

 

He doesn’t step foot inside her room, not without an invitation. And she doesn’t give one. But she also doesn’t up and slam the door in his face. That’s a good sign. At least he hopes it is, as he chooses to look at the bright side.

 

“Why bother?” Beth asks with a dismissive shrug. “It’s been a _week._ And it was another week before that when you yelled at me to get out. I was right. You do hate me. And I hate you. I don’t _need_ you, Will. You’re not my dad. You’re just my brother, my _half-_ brother, even. Plenty of people get along fine without one.”

 

The words are daggers to his heart, one right after the other. But she’s hurting because of _him_ , so he takes it all with a solemn nod, staring at his toes while trying to collect his thoughts before looking back up at her.

 

“Someone a whole lot smarter than me told me earlier today that apologies are important because it lets someone know that you realize you wronged them,” Will tells her. “It’s up to you if you want to forgive me or not, Beth. But I do love you and I’d really like the chance to tell you I’m sorry, because you deserve to hear it.”

 

She fidgets and, for a second, she looks so much younger than she is, as she tries to find her footing. “Amelia’s, like, a _whole_ lot smarter than you,” she says. “Loads and loads.”

 

“She is,” he agrees, cracking a half-smile.

 

Chewing on her lip, Beth shrugs. “I mean, if you want to talk, I can’t actually stop you, you know.”

 

A pang of longing hits him. God, he’s missed her so much. “Can I come in?”

 

“Don’t push your luck.”

 

“Fair enough,” he replies. He sits down in the threshold, leaning against the door. “I messed up.”

 

She snorts. “Biggest understatement _ever._ And a terrible apology.”

 

“I’m not done. Would you give me a minute? Jeez.” Will shakes his head at her and she rolls her eyes in response. But she doesn’t say anything else and he takes it as a sign to continue. “I was dealing with a lot of things. I was scared. And I lashed out at you. Beth, you’re the last person in the world who deserved that.”

 

“Stranger danger is not new to me, Will,” Beth informs him. “I’m almost a teen, which is basically a grownup. I know things. I get that there are bad people in the world. I don’t just trust random stuffy old men who come up to me, even if they _do_ give presentations at my school and have fancy titles.”

 

“This isn’t…” Will sighs and scrubs his forehead, trying to figure out exactly what he can and should tell Beth. “Look, yes, I’m terrified that someone is gonna grab you and use you to get to me or Amelia. We both love you so much and we’d do anything to protect you. There are some pretty terrible people out there who know that. It worries me a lot. That’s why you have the guards. But, for the most part, what happened with you and me wasn’t about that.”

 

Beth frowns, giving him a guarded look. “What’s it about, then?”

 

He pauses for a moment before answering. “I’m still getting better.”

 

She slides off her bed onto the floor to sit directly across from him, tugging a stuffed unicorn into her lap as she goes. He doesn’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.

 

“What do you mean?” she asks, glancing at his stomach. “You’re healed up. You’re all better now.”

 

“My body is,” Will agrees, nodding before touching his temple as he adds, “but sometimes things like what I went through hurt the way you think, too. That’s harder to treat. It’s harder to _see._ It can make you more scared and more angry. It can make your head think you need to push people away, even people you love a lot.”

 

There’s a curiosity about her, but she’s wary, too. “I don’t understand.”

 

Of course she doesn’t. She shouldn’t have to. She’s just a kid.

 

“Imagine you had the worst nightmare you’ve ever had over and over again,” he says. “All the time. And then, sometimes, you start having it when you’re awake, too. That’d be scary, right? You’d be confused. And, if you’re like me, maybe sometimes you’d lash out at people who really don’t deserve it.”

 

Beth’s eyes are wide as she hugs her unicorn. “You get nightmares when you’re awake?”

 

“Sort of,” Will says. “But that’s not the point.”

 

“What’s the point, then?”

 

“I know why I treated you the way I did,” he tells her. “And I know it was wrong. And I’m sorry. I do love you, Bethy, even if you still hate me. And I’m going to get help from doctors to work on fixing when my head is working wrong, because I don’t want to be like that. Not to you or Amelia or anyone else.”

 

She gets very quiet and looks down at her stuffed animal, smoothing its mane so it lies flat. “I don’t actually hate you, you know. I was just super mad.”

 

“You had every right to be,” Will replies. “You still do.”

 

When she looks up at him again, the tears in her eyes make his heart clench. “You yelled at me to leave. You told me I couldn’t even come over. You tried to make me give up Amelia.”

 

“I know,” Will says softly, resting his chin on his hand as he watches her. “I was wrong to do all of that.”

 

“Did you apologize to Amelia?” she asks, hugging her unicorn tightly to her chest.

 

“Yes, but I should probably do it again.”

 

“Definitely,” Beth agrees with a sigh. She sets the unicorn aside and then lifts her chin, leveling him with a look. She suddenly seems like she’s about fifteen and he has to blink to clear his vision. “I guess you’ll need help with that. I’m available.”

 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Generous of you.”

 

“Totally,” she agrees. “You should definitely get flowers.”

 

“For Amelia?”

 

“For any girl you need to apologize to,” Beth informs him primly.

 

Will chuckles. “Did you just ask me to get you flowers?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, getting up off the floor and walking over to him. “I’m just teaching you how to apologize properly. You know, in case you need to grovel more.”

 

“ _Grovel_?”

 

“Well, you _are_ the one on the ground,” Beth replies, lifting an eyebrow as she offers him a hand. It seems like a lifeline and he takes it, allowing her to help him up.

 

“How’s a hug work for part of an apology?” he asks, giving her a hopeful look.

 

She sighs dramatically and wraps her arms around him like she’s doing him a favor. But she holds on for all she’s worth, her shoulders curling into him as she rests her cheek against his chest. Will holds her just as tightly and, for the first time in a while, he starts to think that maybe everything really will be okay.

 

“You always have a place with me, Beth,” he says. “I promise. You can always come over.” Will pauses, a thought flitting through his mind and he gives a dry laugh. “I don’t want you to even have to knock.”

 

Beth looks up at him with hopeful eyes. “Does that mean I can come over and see Amelia?” 

 

“You can,” he agrees. “After you help me pick out some flowers for her.”

 

“She definitely likes peach roses, if she’s like me,” Beth informs him.

 

“I was thinking daisies for her,” Will grins, ruffling Beth’s hair. “But I bet we have a second vase sitting around for some peach roses. If someone should happen to give you some.”

 

“Someone had better,” she replies loftily, running her fingers through her hair and holding her chin high as she strides into the hall. She pauses to look back at him. “We going?”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’re on our way.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I adore you guys. Thanks for loving and sticking with this story. We're headed into the final stretch, so take a deep breath and buckle up... and probably don't start this chapter until you know you'll have time to read the whole thing. <3

The backing to her earring slips. 

 

Amelia curses under her breath as the sharp end stabs her fingertip, her grandmother’s pearl stud nearly falling from her shaking hands. She fumbles to catch it, trying to settle her nerves enough that her fingers work. But it’s no good. If anything, the tremors get worse. 

 

Somehow, this day has both come too fast and too slowly all at once.

 

For most of the last year, the trial had been some far off event looming in the distance. And, there’d been so much happening in the past few weeks that it was easy to avoid looking at the date growing ever-closer on her calendar. But there’s no avoiding it today, or any day in the near future.

 

Closing her eyes, Amelia pinches the earring between her fingers and grips the dresser before her as hard as she can. The wood bites into her palms, doing little to ground her, and she digs her fingers in even harder. She takes a slow, deep breath, searching for calm despite her racing mind. But it does nothing to slow her heart rate to anything resembling normal. If anything, her pulse speeds up with an anxious jolt that has her breathing out a tiny whine. Amelia presses her lips into a thin line. She’s not sure she can do this. She’s not ready. She’s not sure she’ll ever be ready.

 

Their voices echo in her mind… 

 

_“Forgot the safety.”_

 

_“Should’ve minded your own business.”_

 

_“Gotta say, I’m gonna enjoy this.”_

 

She shivers and digs her nails into the wood of Will’s dresser as she pushes the memories back. But her throat still closes, her lungs seizing. God, it’s so hard to even _think_ about that day, how the hell is she going to talk about it on the stand? How’s she going to sit in the same room as those two men knowing she’s only alive because they failed in their mission to murder her?

 

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs near her ear. “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

Strong arms wind around her from behind, warm and supportive, and she’s finally able to take a breathe again.

 

Amelia lets go of the dresser to hold onto Will’s forearms where they wrap around her middle. She leans back into him with a sigh, turning her head to nuzzle the side of his face. His jaw is rough with the beginnings of his scruff trying to come back, and it grounds her more than anything she’s been able to do until now. He’s a solid, steady wall of support and she needs that today.

 

“I don’t want to do this,” she admits on a whisper.

 

Just saying it out loud sends a wash of guilt through her. 

 

She opens her eyes and turns to the mirror to find him already watching her, his chin resting on her shoulder. 

 

“No one expects you to,” Will says with no judgment at all. His soft eyes smile sadly at her. “This is probably the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. But you _can_ do it. I know you can. And I’ll be there the whole time.”

 

“What…” Amelia bites her lips together, but her next words still come out in a rush. “What if they bring up Providence? What if Domino uses this as a way to unmask me - unmask _all_ of us - to undermine the trial?”

 

“Amelia…”

 

“What if they call Thad to the stand? What if they go after _you-”_

 

“He’s not going to say a word against me,” Will interrupts. “My father will make sure of that.”

 

“But what if he can’t?” Amelia insists. “What if they do exactly what they threatened?”

 

“My dad has more than enough leverage to use against Thad,” he reminds her. “And we both know Thad’s going to do whatever benefits him the most. That’s who he is. So, it doesn’t matter what Domino promised him, because my dad has more than enough to destroy his career and see him locked up. As for unmasking you, I think Domino would have done it already if that was his plan. The risk just gets higher the closer we get to the trial. Why wait until the last second when he can remove you from testifying completely? I don’t think now is the time, and I don’t think you do either. So what’s this really about?”

 

He loosens his hold on her before running his hands down her arms, his warm palms so steady and certain in contrast to her constant jitters today. The pressure of his fingertips urges her to turn around to face him, and the second she meets his gaze without the mirror to buffer them, the last bit of hold she has on her thoughts fades away.

 

“What if I mess this up?” she asks in an unsteady whisper. “What if he beats me here, too? What if I’m not enough?”

 

“You are,” Will tells her, cupping her face, his gaze locking solidly on hers.

 

“Will…”

 

“You _are,”_ he emphasizes. “You don’t control everything that happens here. No one person does. You’ll do your part and you’ll do it well, because you always do. We have a damn good case. I can’t swear to you that we’ll win, but I will promise you that we’re going to get justice for what you went through. One way or another.”

 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t get convicted,” Amelia confesses in a tiny voice.

 

“Considering they murdered the police chief’s wife, I can’t imagine things are going to end well for them, no matter what side of the bars they’re on,” Will points out. “But I will make sure that they can’t get to you again. No matter what, Amelia. If that means I have to dump them both on Lian Yu myself, I’ll do it. If I need to beg The Flash to lock them up, I’ll make the call.”

 

“We can’t be a replacement for the whole legal system, Will,” she protests. It’s thin, though, and she finds herself entertaining his thoughts. She’s more flexible with the idea than she’d like. Amelia shakes her head. “That’s too much. It’s a step beyond vigilantism.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling as he kisses her forehead. She melts into him, winding her hands around his tie tightly enough that her earring digs into her finger. “But you are forgetting something.”

 

“What’s that?” she mumbles.

 

“You’re the vigilante. I’m just a man who’d do anything he has to do to keep you safe.”

 

Despite everything, that makes her smile. It helps, even if just a little.

 

“Can I help you get that earring in?” he asks.

 

“Would you?”

 

Will nods, holding his hand out. She drops the pearl stud along with its backing into his hand. It only takes him a second. He’s far steadier than her, and she finds herself clinging to his strength by gripping his shirt as tightly as she can. One of them needs to have it together today, and she’s grateful he’s capable right now, because she is not.

 

“There we go,” he announces, setting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face the mirror again.

 

She looks better than she feels, the consummate professional. Inside, she’s shaking, her stomach twisting and turning until she’s positive she’s going to throw up the piece of toast she’d managed to choke down earlier. But on the surface, she seems polished and prepared. What an illusion that is.

 

“Where are you?” he asks, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “Scale of one to ten?”

 

“Two,” she replies. But his breath is warm against her blouse and out the corner of her eye she sees the daisies he came home with when he brought Beth over the other day. It’s just like the plush flowers he’d won her at the fair. Same colors. Same arrangement. But far, far more real. Amelia covers his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe a little better than a two. Maybe you make it a three.”

 

A smile tugs at his lips when he meets her gaze in the mirror. She thinks that sometimes it still surprises him that he makes everything better for her, but he really does. Even if he doesn’t quite understand that yet, he does seem to accept it now. And he’s obviously so grateful.

 

“You know how we get that number up a few notches, don’t you?” he asks.

 

“Getting through this trial.”

 

“That, or a vacation to somewhere you can wear very small bikinis while we drink fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them... Of the non-alcoholic variety.”

 

Amelia raises an eyebrow at him. “I think both. Definitely both.”

 

She’s surprised him yet again and delight flashes through his eyes. “It’s a plan.”

 

First, though, they need to get through the trial.

 

It goes unsaid, but they both know it’s true. The mood in the room shifts to something more somber and Amelia nods before stepping away. He doesn’t move, and she’s grateful, grabbing his hand without a word and leading him into the living room. 

 

A cadre of Digg and Lyla’s security force waits for them there. They’d expected more attempts on their lives since the attack at Maggie’s, but Domino’s been suspiciously quiet. It’s unsettling, and it hasn’t done any favors for Amelia’s mounting anxiety about the trial. He has to have something planned, but the when and where have remained a mystery. As grateful as she is for Digg and Lyla’s employees, she’ll be more at ease once they get to the courthouse. At least there, they’ll also be surrounded by law enforcement. The more people watching out for things to go sideways, the better she’ll feel. 

 

She knows, though, that she won’t be able to fully relax until it’s over.

 

Amelia spends half the ride holding her breath, certain a car’s going to come out of nowhere and t-bone them in yet another attempt on her life. It doesn’t, though. They get to the courthouse with no problem, entering through a secure parking garage with no media and an escort…

 

It takes her a second to realize the escort is the police chief himself. Considering what’s going on today, she’s not surprised to see him. What _does_ surprise her is who’s next to him.

 

Jules stands between the chief and another officer, looking for all the world like she belongs there.

 

“Hey,” Will says slowly, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I can’t support my brother and the least objectionable girl he’s ever dated?” Jules asks, trying to smother a smile.

 

“Careful, that was almost a compliment,” Amelia tells her.

 

“Oh, yikes, I need to watch myself.” She gives a mock shudder. “I’m going soft.”

 

“Miss Prescott,” Chief Malone greets, nodding to her security before placing a guiding hand on her elbow. “I want to thank you for what you’re doing. I know this can’t be easy on you.”

 

“It’s not,” Amelia agrees, falling in step with him. Will, Jules, the security team, and half a dozen uniformed cops join them. It somehow doesn’t make her feel as good as she’d hoped it would. She swallows hard. “I have to be here, though. Both for me and for you and your wife. For Deedee, too. I have to see this through.”

 

The smile he gives her has no joy, but it is soft. “I can see why she liked you.”

 

Amelia knows there’s nothing she can say to that. Nothing will ease the pain he’s endured by losing his wife in such a brutal way. 

 

“The feeling was mutual,” she offers, reaching up to grip his shoulder. His dress blues are sharp and crisp, and the fabric stays stiff beneath her fingers. He gives her a grateful nod and she smiles sadly in return. “You know the details as well as I do by now, Chief. And I have no doubt it will hurt hearing everything again in court, but your wife was a fighter. She worked for this city her whole life. She was a hell of a mayor and a wonderful person. She put herself between me and those men. She gave her life so that I’d have a chance to survive. I couldn’t do anything to save her then, but I am sure as hell going to stand up for her now and see justice done, so that she can rest in peace and you can have some sense of closure.”

 

The chief gives her a slight nod, blinking away a sheen of tears as he rubs his nose roughly.

 

“Thank you for that,” he replies before nodding down the hallway. “This way.”

 

From behind him, Jules offers Amelia a little smile as Will’s hand finds the back of her neck, easing away some of her tension. She leans into his warmth as they make their way through the ornate halls of the Starling City courthouse.

 

After a moment, Will’s fingers falter slightly. Amelia looks over to see him swallowing hard. She casts him a questioning look, and he flushes almost sheepishly as he forces a smile.

 

“It’s just… marble floors,” he tells her. A ruddy tinge colors his cheeks as he ducks his head. She wishes he understood there’s nothing to be ashamed of, but he hasn’t been able to grasp that. Not yet.

 

“You okay?” she asks, rubbing a hand against his back.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he insists. “I just hadn’t expected it.”

 

Amelia nods, following the police into a wider hallway with a few people milling about. “My earrings have a matching necklace,” she tells him, her fingers brushing over her bare throat. “I didn’t even try.”

 

His eyes drop to follow the line of her neck before skimming up to catch her gaze. “You’re dealing with more than enough today.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, lacing her fingers with his. “So are you.”

 

He doesn’t fight her, not like he would have before. Instead he tilts his head in silent acceptance of her point. Little by little, moment by moment, it seems like he’s allowing himself more space to heal. She smiles, hoping it shows just how proud she is of him. This is a long road for both of them and it won’t be easy. But the honest communication, the shared vulnerability, the voiced uncertainties... They all seem to have forged something stronger between them these last few days. 

 

It feels good to have so much hope for where they’re headed.

 

“Press is heavy out front,” Malone says. “And the judge declined to make it a closed courtroom, so they’ll be at the trial, too. The good news is he’s only allowed pictures. No video. And you’ll have your boyfriend and his sister’s support in the room while you testify. That’s got to help.”

 

“It will,” Amelia says. “A lot. And I’m glad to have you in there, too, Chief.”

  
She thinks he needs to be there almost as much as she needs to get on the witness stand despite her fear.

 

“When do you testify?” Jules asks, craning her neck to look past the police chief at the long hall of closed courtroom doors.

 

“Not until later this week,” Amelia replies. “Today’s just opening statements and pleas and all of that. But I needed to be here to see their faces when they say they’re not guilty. I can’t be in the room for most of the trial because I’m a witness, but… I was nearly strangled and murdered. I need to face the men responsible for that.”

 

“Other than Domino,” Jules replies dryly.

 

Chief Malone winces. “We’re working on that.”

 

“Yes, we are,” Will murmurs under his breath, too quiet for the chief to hear.

 

Amelia squeezes his hand in agreement as Malone leads them down another hallway.

 

There’s a wall of reporters waiting just outside the courtroom door. They’re kept behind a roped-off area and there’s a clear designated path, but that does nothing to diminish the sudden flash of bulbs and the clatter of questions that get hurled at them the second they’re in view. Her security team breaks off to bodily block as many reporters as they can. They’ll set up outside, securing the perimeter now that she’s safe with Chief Malone and his men. 

 

Amelia’s grateful to them, in part because she can afford to ignore the press and keep her eyes glued on the oversized doors that make up the entrance to the courtroom. They’re stunning in design and incredibly intimidating, but they have nothing on the hoard of reporters. She picks up the pace, her heart in her throat and her breaths coming way too fast. Will does his best to shield her from view and several of Chief Malone’s officers follow suit, providing an extra layer of protection between her and the media. But she doesn’t release a full exhale until they’re through the door with the din muffled behind them.

 

She doesn’t move for a split second, staring at the judge’s seat straight ahead.

 

“C’mon,” Will murmurs, holding her hand tightly. She swallows hard as she nods.

 

Clicks of a few cameras go off from a row of reporters taking up the back row, but it’s far less intrusive than outside. All the same, she welcomes Will’s arm when he winds it around her and leads her toward a seat at the front. Jules flanks her, and the chief gives a soft nod before heading back a few rows to sit with a woman Amelia vaguely recognizes as Laurel’s mother.

 

Once they’re seated, time crawls to a near-stop.

 

Amelia finds herself checking her watch every twenty seconds as they wait for proceedings to begin. God, if waiting for opening statements is taking so long, how long is it going to be before she can testify? How long before this trial is _over?_

 

She pinches her eyes shut and wipes her clammy hands against her skirt, trying to center herself. It doesn’t help. How is she going to get through this?

 

“You’re okay,” Will whispers, rubbing her shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

 

“Don’t suppose you have access to a time machine so we can just zip through this part?” she asks with a dry laugh, peeking her eyes open to look at him.

 

“Sadly, I’m fresh out of time machines,” he replies. “I was thinking more like a glass of water.”

 

“I’m not sure I could keep it down right now,” Amelia confesses. “No, I’m as good as I can be. Just… Keep rubbing my shoulder for a bit?”

 

Will nods, working his fingers up to the base of her neck. “You’ve got it, honey.”

 

Time doesn’t go any faster, but the comforting feeling of his hand on her skin does help her get through everything moment by moment. It’s distracting enough that she focuses in on his fingers for several full minutes until a sharp click of heels sounds against the marble floors, closing in at a steady pace.

 

Amelia looks up to find Felicity in the aisle next to them.

 

“Mom?” Jules asks. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Felicity replies, taking a seat next to Jules and leaning in. “We’re on the equivalent of DEFCON one right now. Lyla’s filling in for me at the moment. Everyone who’s free is spread out across the city waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop.”

 

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m surprised to see you,” Jules says. “Alex actually took the day off work.”

 

“You found something,” Will realizes, his attention focused sharply on his mother as he leans in. Amelia’s heart leaps into her throat as Will adds in a low voice, “About Domino?”

 

“Sort of,” Felicity says, glancing around to make sure no one’s within earshot before continuing. That doesn’t stop her from leaning in even closer. “I had a thought last night. We know one of these two henchmen knows Domino’s identity.”

 

“Yeah,” Will says, “but they aren’t giving him up.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Felicity waves him off as she all but vibrates in her seat. “We figured that out months ago. But I think we were going at this the wrong way. Instead of hunting for which of Domino’s boys knows who he is and trying to wrestle it out of him, I think we needed to ask why the hell this henchman knows his identity in the first place.”

 

Jules furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

 

 _“One_ of his henchmen knows who he is,” Felicity reminds them. “Just one. Out of more than a hundred. He’s had how many others that went to jail over trying to get this guy out? Why not just…” She cuts herself off and makes a slicing motion across her neck, complete with sound effects. “You can’t tell me he couldn’t get to someone _in_ jail. There’s no way that’s true. So he’s got one henchman, just the one, who knows who he is. He won’t have this guy killed, but he’s willing to sacrifice more than a dozen men to try and get him free. So the question is… _why?”_

 

“Because he’s not just a henchman,” Jules says, the realization visibly clicking in her mind. “One of these two men is important to him personally. Family, or a good friend, or-”

 

“Or a lover,” Felicity finishes with a triumphant look. 

 

Amelia starts, her mind rocketing back to her brief, horrifying encounter with the mob boss. Instinct tells her Felicity is on the right track and there’s something _right there_ in her head, a missing piece she can’t quite find that would fill in the bigger picture.

 

But it’s out of reach.

 

“I did some in-depth research last night on both of our defendants,” Felicity continues. She’s still buzzing a bit, but Amelia suspects half of it is because of the massive amounts of caffeine she undoubtedly consumed to pull an all-nighter. “One thing stuck out. Ketherington’s social media. Four years ago, he broke up with his last boyfriend. No mention of anyone by name since then. But there _is_ someone in his life and they’ve been together the last three years.”

 

“And you think it’s Domino?” Amelia asks.

 

“I think it’s someone he complained wouldn’t be seen in public with him,” Felicity tells her. “It could just be his boyfriend isn’t publicly out, but it would also fit if Domino didn’t want anyone knowing he had an attachment to someone. That’s a big risk for a mob boss.”

 

“Did Ketherington have anyone visit him in prison?” Will asks. “Or at the hospital before that?”

 

Felicity shakes her head. “Just his mother and lawyer.”

 

“But Domino couldn’t,” Amelia says, looking at Will. “If Felicity’s right, there’s no way he could risk exposing himself by visiting Ketherington in jail. It would be too dangerous to leave that trail for us to find.”

 

“So he does everything he can think of to get his boyfriend freed instead,” Felicity finishes. “No matter the cost.”

 

It’s conjecture, but it _works._ The pieces fit and Felicity is rarely wrong.

 

“Okay, but how does this help us?” Jules asks. “How do we use this to trace back to Domino?”

 

“I’m working on it,” Felicity replies. “If we can figure out how they met then we might be able to follow that trail right back to our crime lord.”

 

“And it might help the prosecutor,” Will notes. “More leverage can’t hurt.”

 

“True, but I’m not ready to tip our hand just yet,” Felicity says. “Give me some time to work on this. If I don’t have anything when we get near the end of the trial, I’ll tip them off. But I’d rather keep this to ourselves for now…” A yawn interrupts her, a long, drawn out affair that tells them all just how tired she is. Felicity shakes her head as Will and Jules exchange a glance. “Sorry. All-nighters were _way_ easier in my twenties. And thirties. And forties.”

 

“Why don’t you let Jules take you back to headquarters?” Will suggests.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Felicity says, waving him off. “I can drive. I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah, it’s not driving we’re worried about,” Jules chimes in. “You said yourself we’re on DEFCON one. Domino hasn’t gone after you yet, but there’s nothing to guarantee he won’t. He’s gonna be desperate today and you are exhausted. You’d be an easy target.”

 

Exasperation colors Felicity’s face. She’s about to protest, but Amelia cuts her off by reaching across Jules to place her hand over Felicity’s.

 

“Please give us the peace of mind of knowing you’re safe?” she asks. “There’s too much going on today as it is. Any risk we can lessen seems like a smart move. I’m surrounded by police. I’m trained. I’ve got Will. We won’t leave the courtroom until Jules gets back or the rest of Digg’s security team picks us up. We’re fine. You’re not putting any of us in danger by letting Jules take you home.”

 

Felicity opens her mouth, ready to argue, but Jules levels her with a _look._ The older woman finally sighs, her shoulders falling in defeat. “Fine. Alright,” she says, scooting out of her seat. Jules follows. “Alright, but… Just be careful. Both of you.”

 

“We have each other’s backs,” Will promises his mother, but his eyes are on Amelia.

 

She feels it as if he’d touched his fingertips to her cheek, and she turns to him. “Always.”

 

A groundswell of emotion takes her breath away at the soft affection in his eyes. It soothes something deep in her soul that was wounded long ago. It makes her ache for the beachside vacation they talked about where they’ll have all the time in the world to be wrapped up in each other.

 

 _Soon_.

 

“Keeping your eye on each other was not meant to be literal,” Jules advises. Will gives his sister a long-suffering look and she shrugs. “I’m just saying! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

Felicity kisses her fingers and waves goodbye as the two Queen women leave together.

 

The first thing Amelia does when they’re gone is check her watch. Surely the trial must be starting any second now… But no. Time crawls, dragging her along with it. She groans and thuds her head back against the wooden bench.

 

“I need a fast-forward button.”

 

Will chuckles and pulls her close, kissing her temple as he rubs her arm. “We’ll get there. Maybe we should’ve left the house later.”

 

“No,” she counters, resting her hand on his thigh and leaning into him. “There’d have been a bigger crowd and it would’ve been harder to get in here. Plus, I’d have been going nuts at home.”

 

“Sure, but stress-folding laundry might not be a bad thing,” he replies dryly. Amelia shoves her shoulder into him in response as he chuckles. “It’s okay, honey. We’re getting there. You just need something to make the time pass faster.”

 

“We can’t do _that_ in a courtroom.”

 

He grins. “God, I love your mind.”

 

Amelia hums happily and squeezes his thigh.

 

“Know what else I love?” he asks, leaning in conspiratorially.

 

“I have a few things in mind,” she replies with a raised eyebrow, “but it all goes back to things we can’t do here.”

 

A laugh rumbles past his lips and his eyes go bright and happy at her words. She’s pretty sure he weighs continuing that line of thought, judging by the flirty look he gives her, but he doesn’t follow through. Instead, he glances around the room. “Actually, I love… that there are time travelers in the room.”

 

Amelia bites her lip as she smiles and looks around. “Are there?”

 

“Of course,” he replies, rubbing his hand up and down her arm as he leans in close enough that his heated breath puffs across the shell of her ear. “They’re in disguise. That woman in the third row back is the same person as that woman in the fifth row.”

 

“She’s risking a paradox,” Amelia muses, glancing back at the women. “It must be important.”

 

“Definitely,” Will agrees with a hard nod. “The guy in the row ahead of her is her future husband, but they miss each other here. She intends to push them together so they don’t waste so much time.”

 

Amelia turns back to him at that. His eyes are already fixed on her, and she touches his cheek, rubbing her thumb through the hints of his newly-regrown scruff. “If they wind up together in the end, then it wasn’t really wasted, was it?”

 

“Maybe not,” he replies, touching his forehead to hers with a deep sigh before sitting back.

 

“I think the spies are more interesting, anyway,” she asserts, going back to their game.

 

“I do love a good spy story,” Will agrees. “Who are we looking at?”

 

“The bailiff by the bench, near the side door of the courtroom,” Amelia whispers. “He’s watching everything going on for ARGUS. And he’ll interfere if the trial doesn’t go their way.”

 

“Really?” Will asks. “The bailiff? Isn’t that a little obvious?”

 

She shrugs. “Sure, but look how well-positioned he is to change the outcome of things. Plus, he’s the only one in the room that’s armed, so that’s…” Her voice dies as her eyes drift up to the bailiff’s face. A spark of recognition lights up in the back of her mind and she frowns. “I’ve seen him before.”

 

Her brain works overtime to chase the lead of how she knows the man across the room. It’s right there, on the cusp of realization. So close…

 

“Yeah?” Will asks. “Was he spying at the police station, too?”

 

“No,” Amelia says in a too-quiet voice. “No… He…”

 

Will instantly picks up on the shift in her demeanor. “Amelia, are you alright?”

 

It hits her with a start.

 

“Oh my God,” Amelia breathes, her eyes snapping to Will. “If you want to know who’s behind something, look at who benefits from it.”

 

Will blinks in confusion and then he frowns, glancing from her to the bailiff and then back again. “Why are we quoting Thad and Moira right now?”

 

“Because Thad gave us the answer months ago,” Amelia replies, her stomach twisting into a ball of nerves and excitement that has her shifting to face Will. “They promised him the next _closest_ thing to what he wants, right? That’s what he said.”

 

“Right…” Will says.

 

“What Thad wants - what he’s _always_ wanted - is the presidency,” Amelia reminds him.

 

“So… You think they offered him the vice presidency?” Will asks.

 

“If they _did,_ then why not the presidency?” she asks, her mind whirling as pieces start fitting together. “Why not have the president owe them _everything_ and be completely under their control?”

 

“Because they already promised it to someone else?”

 

“Or because Domino wants it for himself,” Amelia says. Will’s brow furrows as that seed sets in, and she turns back to the bailiff with a tap to Will’s thigh. “Look at that man over there, do you recognize him? Is he familiar to you at all?” Will studies the bailiff, but she can tell it’s not quite clicking in his mind yet. “His ear. Part of the tip is missing. Have you seen that before?”

 

“Yeah…” Will’s eyes narrow as he nods before looking back at her. “Where have I seen him?”

 

“The hospital fundraiser,” she answers. “He’s one of Senator Powers’ bodyguards. Senator Powers, who would be a strong contender in any national election and quietly opposed the hospital being built at every turn because it didn’t fit with his agenda. Moira said it herself. It didn’t suit his needs at the time. He has to break the city first. Then he can take the credit for fixing it.”

 

His eyes widen. “You don’t think-”

 

“That Senator Powers is Domino?” Amelia fills in. “Yeah. I do. And I think that ‘bailiff’ is here to make sure this trial never starts in the first place.”

 

Will’s lips part as he stares at her, his breathing growing shallow. “Just him?” Will asks, his voice low and somber. She’d be lying if she said a relieved thrill didn’t shoot through her that he both believes her and is taking this seriously. Will’s eyes dart around the room. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

 

It’s a chilling question.

 

The air itself feels like it thickens around them, filling her lungs too densely, making her movements seem sluggish as she glances at the bailiff. The man’s eyes are on them, and she fights to keep from jerking back like she’s been caught staring. Instead, she turns back to Will, hoping it looks casual enough not to raise suspicion.

 

“Smile at me like I said something adorable,” she orders, forcing a grin.

 

“You’re always adorable,” he replies, giving her a wide, tight smile that she might think was genuine if she didn’t know him. “Even when you’re saying something terrifying.”

 

It’s sweet in spite of the situation and her grin twitches, turning a shade more honest even as her heart pounds wildly in her throat. “Glance around the courtroom,” she instructs. “But don’t make it obvious. See if anyone else looks out of place.”

 

Will stretches, wrapping an arm around her. He takes his time about it, putting on a show, giving her a wink before nonchalantly glancing behind them at the rest of the room. He tilts his head in acknowledgement to the police chief before turning back to Amelia and leaning in close.

 

“There are four reporters I don’t recognize in the back row,” he tells her.

 

Coming from most people, that wouldn’t mean much. But coming from a Queen…

 

“Where?” she asks.

 

“Your side of the room. The four on the end.”

 

Amelia scratches her nose, aiming for the same nonchalance Will embodied a moment ago. She looks every which way, pretending to study the architecture. Sure enough, there’s a cluster of reporters she doesn’t recognize either. Two of them are watching her. She can’t even muster a fake smile their way.

 

“Me either,” she murmurs, turning back to Will.

 

“No easier way to sneak weapons into a courthouse than disguising them as camera equipment,” he replies.

 

“This is a set-up,” Amelia concludes, choking on the words. “It’s an ambush. They’re going to attack and break both of Domino’s boys free the second all their pieces are in place.”

 

“And I’d bet they intend to kill us in the crossfire.”

 

“How do we stop this?” she whispers urgently. “How do we…”

 

Amelia’s voice trails off when a familiar voice tells someone thank you. A fresh shock of fear trickles down her spine as the blood drains from her face.

 

_No._

 

“Will,” she chokes out, gripping his thigh hard enough that her nails dig in. “Maggie…”

 

His brow furrows as they both turn to find the extremely pregnant woman easing herself into a seat. Absently, Amelia registers her best friend making a joke about needing a spot on the end of the row for easy bathroom access, in case her baby boy takes up tap dancing again. But all of Amelia’s focus is honed in on her surroundings. Where the very real threats are... Where the exits are... 

 

God, how are they going to get out without making it obvious and turning the whole courtroom into a bloodbath that costs them everything?

 

“Will,” she grits out.

 

He nods, covering her fingers atop his thigh with one hand as he pulls out his cellphone. “We have to get her out of here,” Will says just before his voice dissolves into a frustrated growl. He shoves the phone back into his pocket. “No service.”

 

“They’re blocking it,” Amelia says. “They have to be.”

 

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “There’s never a good signal in the courthouse, but it’s also never entirely absent. We need to get a message to Maggie. Now.” He stops and glances at the clock. “ _Right_ now, Amelia.”

 

“I’ve got this,” she says, pushing up out of her seat. He scrambles to follow, snagging her fingers with his. She looks back to find worry etched in his face and she repeats, “I’ve got this.”

 

Against all odds, he swallows, giving her a nod and breathing out a slow exhale that drains the tension from his body. Enough to relax a little, at least. But he still follows her as she leaves their row and walks across the room to where Maggie sits. Amelia glances around and notes that Deedee isn’t with her. Relief hits her at that, and she sends up a small prayer of thanks for her goddaughter’s safety before clearing her throat to grab her friend’s attention.

 

Maggie turns, looking up with a flinch of a smile.

 

It hurts, even as Amelia mirrors the expression. Maggie’s cautious and worried, which makes sense given what’s going on today and everything that happened the last time they saw each other.

 

“Hi,” Amelia greets, rubbing her sweaty palm against her skirt. Will holds her other hand tighter. It’s crazy that even with the immediate fear for their lives, there’s still a nervousness in her that’s borne entirely out of coming face-to-face with Maggie again. 

 

“Hi,” Maggie echoes, arching her body awkwardly as she shifts her belly to center her weight as she stands back up. “I’m glad to see you.”

 

Amelia lets go of Will’s hand as Maggie wraps her arms around her. She can’t quite stop the relieved noise she makes as she closes her eyes, stealing a second to just hug her friend. She _needs_ this. After all they’ve been through, after all they _will_ go through, she needs this moment.

 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Amelia whispers, closing her eyes for a second before opening them to find one of the so-called reporters staring at them. It steels the urgency living in her veins and she steps back, keeping her hands on Maggie’s arms as she looks her in the eye. “No Deedee today? I’m surprised to see you.”

 

“I can’t let her be here,” Maggie replies, shaking her head. “I know they want her to testify, but it’s too much. I’m going to try to talk to the judge.”

 

“She’s with Jer?” Amelia asks, searching Maggie’s eyes. “With protection?”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie confirms. “We have U.S. Marshals keeping Deedee safe.”

 

“Good,” Amelia says on a relieved sigh. She’s glad the little girl isn’t just in the bathroom or taking a stroll outside with her father. “That’s good.”

 

“I said some things before,” Maggie blurts out, grabbing one of Amelia’s hands. “I was a mess of hormones and stress. I understand… your workout routine. I might not love it, but I do love you. And I know I owe you a lot. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Amelia counters before leveling her with a look that has Maggie stiffening. “But I do need to tell you something.”

 

They’re too close to the reporters. Amelia sees one of them leaning closer from the corner of her eye, paying far too much attention to what she’s saying. She’s going to have to be very, very careful. 

 

“What is it?” Maggie asks, searching her face.

 

Amelia’s smile goes tight as she tries to scream everything with her eyes that she can’t say out loud. “Don’t freak out, okay? Promise me.”

 

Maggie frowns. “You’re already freaking me out.”

 

There’s nothing Amelia can do to allay her fears. They’re well-founded, after all. Taking a deep breath, she says, “I saw your brother today. Here, at the courthouse.”

 

It takes Maggie a split second to understand and when she does all of the color leaves her face. “Here?” she manages after a moment. “He’s _here?”_

 

“He’s _right_ here, Maggie,” Amelia tells her. “If you don’t want to run into him, you should get out of here the minute you can. Do you understand me?”

 

She nods without saying anything, but her breathing starts coming a little too rapid as her eyes dilate with fear. “Yes,” Maggie says, nodding harder. “Yes, I…” Her voice trails off as her eyes flit back and forth, searching for a path forward. It’s only a moment before a spark lights in her eyes. She masks it before Amelia can fully comprehend what’s about to happen. “ _Oh…!_ ”

 

“What-”

 

Maggie drops Amelia’s fingers with a gasp, her own hand flying to her stomach as she grabs the back of the seat in front of her, bending forward.

 

Whether this is real or not, the fear and concern Amelia feels for her friend is very genuine.

 

“Maggie, are you okay?” she asks, raising her voice enough that people turn to look.

 

“I’m fine,” Maggie replies with a shaky laugh, standing back up. “Sorry. My little guy here was just-” She cuts herself off with a sharp cry and wobbly legs that look like they might give out any second.

 

Will moves to support her, keeping her upright. “You’re having contractions.”

 

“Thank you, Mister _Man,”_ Maggie snaps, scowling at him over her shoulder. If she’s acting, she’s doing a tremendous job, because that has Will’s eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. “I’m so glad that you told me - a woman who has already given birth once - that she’s having contractions. Otherwise I might not have noticed-”

 

She cuts off again with a pained noise, all the blood rushing from her face as she gulps down air.

 

Oh God, what if this isn’t an act?

 

“They’re too close together,” Will says. “Maggie, you’re in labor.”

 

“What?” Amelia blurts.

 

“Move back,” Chief Malone tells the few people who’ve moved to form a circle around her. “She needs some air.”

 

“I need a fucking hospital, you idiot,” Maggie growls. “God, why are men always such _men?”_

 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Amelia promises her. “Your little boy is going to be fine, too. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

 

“Should we call 911?” someone nearby asks. A few people pull out their phones before commiserating over their lack of a signal. 

 

“We’ve got this,” the chief announces, looking back at some fellow officers. “Boys, I need an escort to help me get this woman to the hospital.”

 

A shock of worry races across Maggie’s face as she looks to Amelia for approval.

 

“Go with the chief,” Amelia says, kissing her friend on the forehead. “He’ll take care of you. You’re in good hands.” Maggie’s breath of relief is cut off by another sharp cry as her body curls in on itself, her stomach visibly tensing beneath her maternity dress. Amelia’s hand flies to her belly, cringing. “Maggie, _go.”_

 

“But you…” Maggie chokes out.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Will assures her. It does nothing to calm the fear in Maggie’s eyes.

 

Amelia nods, cupping her friend’s face. “We’ll be _fine,”_ she echoes, hoping like hell it’s true. But even if it isn’t, she needs Maggie to believe it for right now. “We just… We need to stick around here. I need to have a chat with the judge.”

 

“Okay,” Maggie agrees weakly as the police chief moves to support her, taking over for Will.

 

“I’m sure the chief and the U.S. Marshals looking out for you will be a great resource right now,” Amelia says loudly before giving Maggie a pointed look. “Because you can rely on them.”

 

Even though she’s between contractions, Maggie nods in understanding. “I will definitely rely on them. Well... This is one hell of a way to avoid my brother.”

 

Amelia smirks. “The lengths we go to…”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie chokes out, her eyes pinching shut as another contraction hits. 

 

Amelia kisses her friend’s temple one more time, lingering longer than she should as she silently prays that they’ll be okay. That Maggie’s little boy will arrive safe and healthy. That Maggie herself will make it through the labor without complication. That she and Will will both survive the day to meet him. And she prays like hell that Domino and every one of his boys winds up behind bars before Maggie’s even released from the hospital.

 

“Let’s go!” Malone announces. 

 

Another officer helps him support Maggie and the three of them walk with a pair of uniforms clearing the way in front of them and two officers following behind. There’s a flurry of excitement in the room, people chattering with sudden awareness at the surprise development. 

 

It’s the best opportunity they’re going to get.

 

“We need to find the judge,” Amelia says, turning to Will. “We can’t trust courthouse security, if we know the bailiff is part of this.”

 

“Agreed.” Will takes her hand. “Stay on guard. We need to find his chambers.”

 

“How do we do that?” she asks. He pauses, trying to find the answer, but in the end all he has is opening and shutting his mouth a few times. She squeezes his fingers hard. “You’ve been to court before, Will!”

 

“To testify about car accidents and arsons,” Will points out with a dry laugh. “It was all very orderly. This is… not.”

 

“Okay, well, we need a plan.” Amelia’s eyes dart to the clock. There’s a chance that Maggie will clue Chief Malone in about what’s going on before anything can happen. There’s a slimmer chance that she’ll think to call Will’s sister. But they can’t risk it. Not with time ticking too damn fast and mob henchmen all around them, ready to act at any moment. “Now would be good.”

 

Will swallows hard and chews his lip before ticking an eyebrow up at her. “If this were nothing, if you were just telling the judge that Maggie went into labor before the trial starts and that’s all… What would you do?”

 

 _Of course_.

 

She takes a steadying breath, giving Will a small smile before standing up taller, forcing her grin to widen.

 

“I can’t _believe_ her timing,” she says, raising her voice as she looks around. “She kept joking about not having to be here if the baby comes, and here we are, her getting swept away to the hospital and me having to tell everyone what’s going on…” Amelia looks at the bailiff without warning. “Excuse me? Sir?”

 

The man jolts, his shoulders jerking back, his eyes darting around the room as if to make it look like he’s as innocuous as the witness stand next to him.

 

He doesn’t reply.

  
Amelia leans into her role, stepping up to the railing separating the front of the courtroom from the gallery to get the man’s attention, as if she isn’t completely aware of what he’s doing. She points right at him. “Excuse me. You’re a bailiff, right?”

 

“Uh, yes. Ma’am.” The man shuffles his feet and clears his throat. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

 

“So you can get us to the judge?” she asks, leaning over the railing toward the empty prosecutor’s table. She lowers her voice. “I know he’ll be here shortly, but it’s incredibly urgent. We need to talk to him before the trial. My friend Maggie - the one who just went into labor - she passed along information to me that his Honor needs to know before any of this starts.”

 

“That’s not… I can’t do that,” the guy replies, his eyes not-so-surreptitiously glancing at the row of reporters behind her.

 

“His Honor will want to hear what I have to say,” Amelia promises. “You do know where to find him, right?”

 

“Of course I do,” the man replies, hooking his thumbs in his belt as if he’s pointing at a flashing ‘I really am a bailiff’ sign over his head.

 

“Right.” Amelia smiles tightly. “Listen, if you can just point us the right way, that’s all I’m asking.”

 

The man’s eyes slip over her shoulder again. She misses whatever silent communication he seems to have going with the non-reporters behind them, but when his eyes dart back to her, it’s with a whole lot more certainty. “I’ll take you to the judge,” he says with a smile. She hopes hers is more convincing than his. “You two just come along with me.”

 

“This needs to work,” Will breathes, putting a hand on Amelia’s back. His eyes haven’t left the bailiff since Amelia started talking to him.

 

She leans in to kiss his cheek, but her lips barely graze him as she whispers, “He’s going to attack. Be ready.”

 

“Mhm,” Will murmurs as they walk through the swinging gate and head toward the bailiff. 

 

The man opens the door next to him, his smile not budging an inch as he waves them through. Will places himself between the man and Amelia, crowding her against a wall.

 

“It’s this way,” the man says.

 

“After you,” Will replies.

 

The buzz of conversation in the courtroom continues in the background, as the three of them head down a long hall. It fades away as they walk, the sounds of their footsteps growing louder against the marble floors in the otherwise silent hallway. Now that they’re alone, the insistent urge to run nags at her, sending a surge of adrenaline when she stubbornly keeps to her steady pace. She watches the man walking ahead of them, wondering if the so-called bailiff can hear her hearting pounding. She’s as terrified as she’s been in a long while. Instinct tells her they’re walking out of one trap and into another, and it only heightens her senses, fingers twitching, her body readying for an attack.

 

It doesn’t come to that, though.

 

The moment they’re far enough away from the courtroom that the sounds have faded completely, Will taps the man’s shoulder. When he turns, Will chops him in the throat. His fist follows swiftly, his tightened knuckles slamming into the middle of the man’s face with a sickening crack that sends him stumbling into the wall. Blood gushes from his broken nose, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching for his gun.  


Will’s faster, though. The instant the bailiff has his gun out, Will grabs the muzzle and slams at his wrist as he twists the weapon’s aim toward the mobster. It happens so quickly, so efficiently that within the blink of an eye, Will’s got the pistol in hand and aimed right at the bailiff’s chest.

 

“A bailiff wouldn’t leave the courtroom minutes before the judge is supposed to show,” Will says. “And we know exactly who you are.”

 

“He’s gonna fucking kill you,” the man snears, spitting out blood as he speaks.

 

“He’s already tried,” Amelia replies. “And he failed. More than once. I like our chances this time.”

 

The man gives her a sick, bloody grin, his teeth painted red and his eyes gleaming. “Keep thinkin’ that way, princess.” Will releases the safety and cocks the gun as the man turns amused eyes back to him. “You’re not a killer, Queen. Not like your old man. Not like your sister. You’re not gonna shoot me.”

 

“I won’t kill you,” Will agrees. “But you’re an idiot if you think I won’t shoot you. Where’s the judge?”

 

“End of the hall,” the man answers, nodding to indicate the direction. “I really was taking you there.”

 

Amelia scoffs. “So you could kill all three of us together?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.” The henchman laughs. Blood drips down his chin, splattering on the marble floor. “That sounds good. I like it. What a pretty picture that makes.”

 

“We don’t need him,” Will says. Before Amelia can agree, he slams the butt of the gun into the guy’s temple. It’s enough force to send him crumpling to the floor with a cry of pain, but he doesn’t lose consciousness. That’s a problem, and it becomes an even bigger problem when Will seems to hesitate.

 

It’s one thing to attack a mocking asshole, but another thing entirely to hit an injured, defenseless man.

 

Amelia doesn’t have the same issue. Not today.

 

She hoists the guy up by his shirt and punches him in the face a few times in quick succession until his eyes roll back into his head and he goes slack. With her stomach roiling full of guilt, she lets him fall back to the floor.

 

“Do we have anything to tie him up with?” Amelia asks. “Somewhere to stash him?”

 

“No time,” Will replies before looking around. He opens a few doors before finding a supply closet. “Here. Let’s dump him in there.”

 

They work together to drag the man’s bulky frame into the tiny space. Amelia glances around quickly, but there’s nothing to secure him with. They don’t have time to waste looking for something. Hopefully he’ll stay unconscious until they’ve talked to the judge and resolved all of this.

 

“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing her hand and tugging her out. He takes a second to lock the door from inside before closing it. “Hopefully that buys us some time.”

 

They run down the hall together, racing for the judge’s chambers. To her amazement, it’s right where the mobster had claimed it to be. She tries not to question their luck, but something buzzes with worry in the back of her brain as she knocks frantically on the door before pushing it open.

 

Inside the room, there’s a single person standing behind the desk with a tablet in-hand.

 

Judge Kendall is a wisp of a man, considerably shorter than Amelia. He’s a little hunched over with white tufts of hair above his ears. He moves slowly, his hands withered and swollen with arthritis. There’s something soft and kindly about him that immediately puts her at ease.

 

“I’m so sorry, Judge Kendall,” Amelia says as the man’s head jerks up at the intrusion. “I apologize for bursting in like this. I’m Amelia Prescott and this is Will Queen. We have reason to believe that your courtroom is about to be attacked by Domino’s men. They’re going to try to free the defendants and escape.”

 

“I know exactly who you are, my dear,” the judge says, setting his tablet down.

 

“Oh good,” Amelia breathes, sagging with relief.

 

“And I know exactly what’s going on in my courtroom.”

 

The air pressure in the room plummets and Amelia has to fight to draw in a breath. “What?”

 

“Why do you think I’m not in there?” he asks. “He thought you might mess things up. You’re very clever.”

 

Amelia stumbles back a step as Will’s grip on her tightens to the point of pain. But she barely feels it as her mind races, trying to sort out what’s happening.

 

“You’re working for him,” she says. “You’re working with Domino.”

 

“Nothing happens in this city without his approval,” Judge Kendall says. Will levels his gun at him, but all it earns is a grim tightening of the man’s lips. “Including judiciary seats, I’m afraid. It’s distasteful, but… Well, we do what we have to, don’t we?” 

 

“I don’t…” 

 

“You’re going to go to him,” the judge says before she can finish speaking. He hobbles around his enormous desk with a sad shake of his head. “You’ll turn yourselves over to Domino and you’ll go alone. Without warning anyone.”

 

“And why the _hell_ would we do that?” Amelia demands.

 

“Because,” Judge Kendall says, turning to pick up his tablet and handing it to Amelia. “There are consequences if you don’t.”

 

Amelia’s breath catches at what she sees on the screen. “No,” she whispers. _“No.”_

 

Will freezes at her side, his hand holding the gun shaking as he stares at the screen where a young girl with dark hair sits tied to a chair. Her lips move as if she’s yelling despite the tears streaming down her face. There isn’t any sound, but Amelia knows that she’s cursing like a sailor.

 

“No,” Will croaks, his shaking worsening, the gun creaking as his finger tightens on the trigger.

 

How he hasn’t shot the judge already is beyond Amelia. She might have.

 

The old man doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.

 

“Either you show up at the address at the bottom of the screen inside of twenty minutes, or he kills that poor sweet little girl,” Judge Kendall says. He shakes his head, his lips pursing. “It’s so distasteful. Really, it is. I can’t stand it. But then, neither can you. Which is the point, I suppose. Whatever else happens, you’re not going to let Bethany Ford die at Domino’s hands, are you?”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reach the climax of the plot. Can you believe it? What a journey this has been. After this week, there's just one more full chapter and a long-ish epilogue to go. I'm hard at work on original projects, currently focused on a deeply atmosphere and metaphor-filled apocalyptic romance. There's also a light and fluffy beach read contemporary romance in the works that's already drafted. Both are meant to kick off a series and both feature a couple inspired by Will and Amelia (in the apocalypse one their names remain Will and Amelia, even). You can watch my twitter at so_caffeinated or my pen name handle on twitter at janamckewen for updates. The first gets used a ton, the second will only have sparse writing-related stuff until things have a more firm timeline. Other than that... I'd say please enjoy this chapter! Also please give yourself time to read it in one sitting. It doesn't have a lot of natural breaking points. 
> 
> XOXO  
> Janis

Will can’t breathe.

 

He stares at the tablet screen, trying to understand what he’s seeing, but it doesn’t make sense. Blood rushes through his ears as his lungs squeeze so tight that spots dance over his eyes. No. Beth’s at home. She’s got two security guards watching her. She’s _safe_. He’s done everything he can to ensure that. She _can’t_ be the one in the chair screaming her head off. She just can’t.

 

“That’s not…” someone says.

 

It’s him, he realizes distantly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s so broken and strained.

 

“We have to go,” Amelia says, tugging on his arm. 

 

He doesn’t move. He can’t. His feet are glued to the floor, immovable. When Amelia drops the tablet to the side, so that he can’t see it anymore, his gaze doesn’t budge. He stares blindly at the spot where it had been. Nausea crawls up the back of his throat, and rage is quick on its heels. He grips the gun so hard he swears it cuts into his palm as his eyes snap back to the judge.

 

“She’s _eleven,”_ Will growls. Part of him expects the man to gasp and take some unfathomable step to fix things. But all he gets is a wince and the click of the other man’s tongue as he tsks. Will takes a threatening step toward him, emphasizing his words with the gun as he shouts, “She has _nothing_ to do with this!”

 

“Very distasteful,” the judge says again, shaking his head. “It’s such a shame it’s come to this.”

 

Will takes another lunging step toward the man, moving to grab him by his robes and slam him against the wall. He doesn’t care how old he is, how defenseless. He’s going to pummel him until he gets the answers he wants and makes him pay. How can anyone do this to an innocent girl? How can anyone stand by and do _nothing_ to stop it?

 

Amelia grabs him before he can, though, and she yanks him back.

 

His eyes snap to her with stunned fury and her own anger greets him.

 

“There’s no time,” she tells him. “We need to go _now.”_

 

“Eighteen minutes,” Judge Kendall informs them with a sorrowful sigh. “I do hope you get there in time. Traffic can be such a nightmare.”

 

“Traffic?” Will repeats incredulously.

 

“Come _on,”_ Amelia demands, shaking Will’s arm. “Beth needs us. Beth needs _you._ You need to keep it together or all three of us are going to die.”

 

Something clicks at that. A sense of purpose fills him as fear-born adrenaline floods his veins. He nods, the motion jerky and uneven as his hand holding the gun finally falls. Any words he might say are trapped in his chest along with the dread he can’t stop from spiraling out of control. But she doesn’t need him to say anything right now. No, she needs him to move, and that’s something he can do.

 

All it takes is one lurching step toward the door for urgency to kick in, powering his movements.

 

Everything blurs after that. Will finds himself in an all-out sprint through the courthouse with Amelia’s hand in his. Her heels click against the marble floor, punctuating their harsh gasps for air as they run. 

 

He doesn’t realize she’s still holding the tablet until her fingers press against the screen.

 

Beth’s voice suddenly rockets through the air around them and Will stumbles to a stop, yanking Amelia back with him. He _knows_ what’s happening, but hearing it is something totally different, and he chokes on the horror that clogs his throat as he whips his head to the screen. Terror rings out in his little sister’s voice, even as she cusses out Domino’s men with a bravado he knows she isn’t feeling.

 

“Oh shit,” Amelia breathes, her voice shaking as she looks down at the tablet. “I didn’t-”

 

“We have to go,” Will snaps.

 

They’re running again, Beth’s screams echoing their every move. He can’t move fast enough. Even though they’re racing through the courthouse, he still feels like he’s moving in slow motion. But it’s worse when they finally get to the car, breezing right past the security team meant to protect them.

 

“Hey!” one of the guards shouts after them, but they’re already in her car, already starting the engine and peeling out of the parking garage.

 

They don’t even talk about it. Domino demanded they come alone.

 

Beth’s life is on the line. There isn’t a _question_ of what they need to do.

  


It takes Will a second to comprehend that he’s the one driving as he screeches around a corner. The fact that he didn’t even _know_ is really a terrible sign that he shouldn’t be behind the wheel, but then Amelia drops the tablet on the console between them before shoving her phone at him.

 

“Directions,” she says without preamble before climbing into the backseat.

 

“Do you have weapons?” Will demands, whipping his head around to look at her.

 

“Extra suit and two blades under the spare tire,” Amelia informs him, yanking open the storage compartment in the back seat. She reaches in and finds her suit and sheathed swords. She doesn’t waste a second, ripping her shirt off, somehow staying upright as Will takes another corner too fast. “Call your mother the second we have cell service. And keep your eyes on the road.”

 

“No extra gun?” he asks, dropping Amelia’s phone where it currently shows a map she’d brought up from the address on the tablet. He pulls out his cell and curses when he sees only one bar of signal strength. The next curse is even more vile as the bar disappears the instant he sees it. That’s miserable for the middle of the city, but if he can get it back, then it might be enough for a call. Hopefully the further they get from the courthouse, the better the signal will be.

 

“Sorry, no,” Amelia replies over the rustle of fabric. “But at least you have the bailiff’s.”

 

“What are we going to do?” he asks, choking on the words as he gets the question out. It’s even more haunting with Beth’s voice ringing out from the tablet. “How are we going to save her and not die in the process? How do we _end_ this? Does it even matter that we know who he is now?”

 

Amelia doesn’t answer right away beyond a pained exhale. His shoulders sag with defeat.

 

“Listen to me,” she says, climbing back into the passenger seat. Her mask isn’t on yet and she’s still working on lacing up her corset, but she’s started the transformation into Providence. It should be comforting, but Will can’t see anything except fear at the moment. 

 

When he doesn’t reply, Amelia reaches over and turns on the auto-drive. 

 

The car immediately slows down to the speed limit as she inputs the address into the navigation system. Will whips his head to ask her what the hell she’s doing, but she’s expecting it. She’s twisted in the seat toward him and she grabs his face, cupping his cheeks hard, forcing him to still under her serious gaze.

 

“We will save Bethany,” Amelia says. “Now matter what it takes, we will get her out of there.”

 

He almost believes her.

 

Will searches her eyes, waiting for more, but she says nothing else.

 

“How?” he finally whispers, his voice cracking. Something flashes through her eyes, enough that he knows she has an idea. His hands cover hers. _“Amelia.”_

 

“I would do anything to save Beth,” she says, her voice straining with emotion. Amelia furrows her brow against it and her resolve sounds stronger as she keeps talking. “I would give anything in the world to save her. And I know you would, too.”

 

 _“Anything,”_ Will emphasizes.

 

She nods, a slow, small movement that feels too quiet for Providence going into battle. It feels too quiet for _Amelia,_ too, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Then we have to give him what he wants,” Amelia says before biting her lip. She gives him a soft shrug. “We need to let him win.”

 

_“What?”_

 

“This is checkmate,” Amelia tells him, shaking her head. “We lost, Will.”

 

“What are you…” Will’s heart pounds at what she might mean. “You’re just going to walk in there and give up?”

 

“We’re out of options,” she replies. “So, yes. I’ll walk in there and do whatever it takes to get him to let Beth go.”

 

“No,” Will snaps. “What if what he wants is you _dead,_ Amelia?”

 

“I don’t think that’s all he wants,” Amelia says. Will’s eyes damn near bug out. “He could’ve had someone planted with the judge. He could’ve had insurance there to kill us if his initial plan fell through. He didn’t. He wants more than our deaths.”

 

“Yeah, but he also wants _our deaths,”_ Will reminds her in a panic.

 

She bites her lips together and lets him go. Will can only watch her, waiting for more, but all she does is pick up the tablet and her phone, putting them in her lap. The phone partially blocks the tablet’s screen, but he can still see Bethy perfectly clear. She wrenches against her bindings, her mouth moving with rapid fire curses flying out, using every word in the book and even making up a few new ones. Amelia turns the volume down, but he can still hear Beth struggling against her captors.

 

Amelia lets out a curse all her own when she sees the shitty service on her phone.

 

“We aren’t going to get a call out, but we might get a text,” she says, punching out a few messages as quickly as she can. “Hopefully something will get to them. Is your mom’s app working on your phone?”

 

“What? No,” Will says, but he still double-checks his phone before shaking his head. “There’s not much it can do without cell service or wifi. It’s like they’re jamming half the city.”

 

“They might be,” Amelia replies. “Who knows how many people are on Powers’ payroll? I wouldn’t put it past him.”

 

There’s nothing Will would put past the man at this point. He clenches his jaw as tight as he can as a swarm of _if onlys_ floods his mind, but he bats them all away. He wants so badly to deny all of this is happening, to be able to close his eyes and open them and see Bethy sitting in the backseat with everything right in the world. But that wouldn’t do them any good right now.

 

He needs to focus.

 

Will chews on his tongue until he tastes blood. “He’s tried to kill you half a dozen times that we know of.”

 

Amelia looks at him. There’s a hollow sadness in her eyes that guts him. “I know.”

 

“What makes you think he’s not going to do it again the minute we walk in there?”

 

It takes a moment for her to respond, but when she does, it’s in a slow, measured voice. “I think there’s more to it than that,” she repeats.

 

“You _think?”_ Will demands as the car pulls closer to the neighborhood Beth’s being held in. It’s painfully familiar. He knows these streets. He drives them all the time on the firetruck. This is _his_ turf and Domino using it now feels like yet another play to leave him feeling powerless. Will grabs Amelia’s hand. “What if you’re wrong?”

 

She shuts her eyes and picks up their joined hands to kiss his fingers. “When I said I’d give anything to save Beth,” Amelia whispers, opening her eyes again and nailing him in place with the gravity of her words, “I meant it.”

 

His fingers seize against hers and he opens his mouth to say something - _anything_ \- but nothing comes out. All he can do is grip her as hard as he can. She’s warm and here and _alive._ He needs her to stay that way. But the way she’s talking now pulls a ripcord of terror in his gut and it’s all he can do to not give into it.

 

“I’m not giving up,” she insists. “That’s not what I’m saying, Will. I just know the stakes and I’m not willing to pretend that I don’t. But I have faith.”

 

A lump clogs his throat as he watches her. “I’m not much of a believer.”

 

She smiles, a soft, gentle look that makes him want to scream. Because how can _anyone_ want to destroy that? How can _anyone_ look at her and not realize she’s the most breathtaking, amazing woman in the whole world?

 

“I am, but I didn’t mean in God,” Amelia clarifies, kissing his fingers again. “Not this time. I meant in _us._ I have faith in us, that we’ll find a way through this. You and me, together, against anything at all. I’ll take those odds every time.”

 

He wants to argue. He believes in her, too, and he does believe in _them,_ but there are so many other factors at play that go so far beyond them.

 

“You’re relying on Domino to stop and listen,” he says. “We have no reason to believe he will.”

 

“I know,” she replies with a gentle sense of certainty he can’t imagine feeling right now. “But I _believe._ We have a purpose, you and me. There’s a reason I came back to Starling, back to you, and I think we’ve only just started to scratch the surface of it. You and I were always meant to be more than we are right now.”

 

She’s said that before, he remembers, not long after their first kiss. He’d argued with her then that if her belief in fate was that strong, it meant she wasn’t ready for what the mask she wanted to wear really meant. But now he thinks maybe he’d had that wrong. It’s not that she doesn’t acknowledge the uncertainty and danger in what she does. It’s that she accepts it and hopes for the best, even when she puts everything on the line. _Especially_ when she puts everything on the line. For Deedee. For Maggie. For Beth. For him. For herself. It’s the same way he believes he’ll walk out when he rushes into a burning building. The only difference is that fire doesn’t act with malice. Domino does.

 

His throat dries and he swallows hard, squeezing her hands.

 

“I believe in us,” Will tells her. “I do. And I believe in _you,_ both as Amelia Prescott and as Providence. I can’t pretend to be as certain as you about how this will all turn out, but I am sure that I’ll be by your side, no matter what, and that both of us will fight with everything we have to save Beth and each other.”

 

“And ourselves,” Amelia adds, raising her eyebrows as she looks for agreement.

 

“And ourselves,” Will repeats with a smile. The way her eyes light up tells him that she believes him. “I want a life with you, Amelia. And I want it to be a long one. We’ll struggle sometimes. And yes, I’m definitely still kind of a mess. But that seems less important than it used to.”

 

“I want that, too,” she says with an answering smile. “A lot. So let’s _fight_ for it.”

 

Will stares at her for a beat and then his eyes drop to the hint of her mask he sees peeking out from under the tablet. He picks it up without a single word and slips it over her eyes. She doesn’t move, holding her breath, just watching him as he adjusts it, brushing her flowing hair back, letting it frame her masked face. 

 

His fingers linger along the razor-sharp edge of the deceptively delicate-looking mask as he takes in the sight of her.

 

For all the times he’s dreamt of trying to get that mask off of her, he’s never once considered putting it _on_ her. 

 

It feels right. The mask, with all it represents, has become as much a part of her as he has.

 

“Let’s fight, then,” Will says.

 

The smile Amelia gives him is stunning.

 

Will takes a heavy breath and glances at the car’s navigation display showing their progress. A sinking feeling hits him as he realizes precisely where they’re headed. Maybe it’s less about making him feel powerless and more about putting a stranglehold on everything Amelia cares about in one fell swoop. “We’re about four minutes out,” he notes before nodding to the tablet in her lap. “What do we know about the layout of the room?”

 

“Not much,” she replies. And, just like that, Amelia’s gone and Providence sits in her place. As much as he knows how necessary it is, Will feels the irrational urge to tell her to switch back, to be Amelia again. Somehow, maybe, there’s a way to just grab Beth and run away from all of this, to leave the masks and Domino behind forever. But that’s not how this works and he knows it. So he bites his tongue and listens as she outlines the situation. She taps the screen as she talks. “He’s in… That building is abandoned.” She says it in a tone that tells him she knows exactly where they’re headed. “It was partially demolished in the blast last year, but most of it is still standing. I think they’re on the ground floor, but I can’t tell much more than that. The angle on the livestream is bad. We can see Beth clearly enough and Domino himself. I’ve seen at least two other men there, too, but how many he has on hand is anyone’s guess.”

 

“It’s a livestream,” Will echoes, his brow furrowing. “How the hell are they getting the signal broadcast to us, if cell service is out all over the city?”

 

Amelia blinks. “I have no idea.”

 

“Can we piggyback it somehow?” Will wonders. “Can we get a message out?”

 

“Not unless you’ve been paying a lot more attention to Overwatch’s work than I have.”

 

“I…” Will’s voice trails off as he pushes himself to think. Instinct has him ready to say he hasn’t learned a thing beyond how to run the comms and monitor security cameras, but isn’t that what this is? It’s just a security camera, when you boil it all down. “Maybe,” he says, surprising both himself and Amelia. “Give me the tablet for a sec.”

 

Somehow it was easier to be separate from what was happening when Amelia held the screen, but the moment she hands it over to him, his hands start shaking as he stares at his sister’s terrified face.

 

“Will?” Amelia pushes gently.

 

Taking a steadying breath, he nods and minimizes the livestream to pull up the tablet settings.

 

Felicity would know exactly what to do. He knows she would. She’d have whipped up something in a heartbeat. He’s not her, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t learned _something_ over the last year sitting at her side. He shuts his eyes for a second and acts on instinct with nothing more than a hope and a wish that his fingers know what to do. Turning on the tablet’s hotspot, he syncs his phone’s locator that’s part of the app Felicity designed to link up to security feeds. He doesn’t so much as _breathe_ until the app on his phone shows that it’s transmitting. 

 

The second that the little button turns green, he lets out a whoop of delight, looking at Amelia with a triumphant grin.

 

“You got a signal out?” she asks with excitement.

 

“The lair will get it and Felicity should too, whether she’s there yet or not,” Will replies with a confident nod. “She has backups in place. At worst, it’ll bounce off the ARGUS satellites, even with cell service and wifi down. ARGUS is built so their systems will still work. That’s the point of them. She’ll get it.”

 

“The video feed of Beth?” Amelia asks.

 

“And they’ll know it’s being relayed from my phone,” Will says. “It’ll give them a location, too.”

 

“So we can count on the team coming… at least the parts of it they can get ahold of right now. With cell _and_ wifi down, the comms are all out, too.” Amelia nods and takes a deep breath. That seems to be all they can do as they get closer to their destination. “Good. That’s big. That’s _great._ Maybe all we need to do is get him talking and buy ourselves some time.”

 

“Maybe,” Will replies, allowing hope to inch into his heart. It feels foolish, but he clings to it anyhow. “He knows we’ll come alone, that we won’t risk Beth by calling anyone to barge in there in place of us. But I can’t believe he’ll expect us to have gotten a signal out. He’ll think he has time and we know from experience he likes to toy with us.”

 

“Yeah, he does,” Amelia agrees, scrutinizing their surroundings. “We’ll need to use that… It’s half a block down.”

 

“Got it,” he says as the decaying building comes into view. 

 

It shouldn’t be there anymore. Not like it is now. It should have been scraped away, broken down and built back up into something stronger, a place meant to heal and nurture. 

 

But instead of a much-needed hospital, they’re left with the scarred remnants of a hollowed out building that’s stuck as a shadow of what it used to be, housing all the more pain and trauma because of it.

 

“Keep your focus on Beth,” Amelia instructs, grabbing his hand as the car rolls to a stop. “Her safety is the most important thing here. I’ll try to keep Domino’s attention on me.”

 

“No,” Will says, shaking his head. “Beth is the top priority for both of us, but we aren’t sacrificing each other for her. We do this _together,_ Amelia. I have your back. We’re a whole lot stronger together than apart. You’re the one who taught me that.”

 

She looks ready to argue, and he’s just as ready to counter it when she finally nods.

 

“Okay,” Amelia replies, her fingers ghosting over his cheek. He savors it. “Okay, Will. You’re right. We’re stronger together. Just… Let me do the talking, okay?”

 

“I suspect Domino will insist on it,” Will replies.

 

The second they’re out of the car, Will has his gun up and aimed at the building. He quickly assesses their surroundings. The windows are too dingy to see through from the outside. He’s not sure anyone inside would have it any easier, but he’s not taking any chances. Neither is Amelia, he realizes as she surveys their surroundings, one of her short swords in hand on the other side of the car. Her eyes skim the rooftops and cast toward the alleyways with a sharp line that mars her brow, on the lookout for anything suspicious.

 

She’s a warrior, his Providence. She’s ready for battle and for once he finds himself thinking that the gleaming, intricate mask across her eyes suits her well. It’s beautiful and dangerous.

 

Just like her.

 

“You ready?” she asks, glancing at him. She’s prepared for this. All the time he’d spent wishing she wouldn’t forge herself into a weapon and now he realizes she’s turned herself into exactly the person he needs. “Let’s get our girl back.”

 

Off his nod, Amelia turns to the building. He follows, keeping a watchful eye for assailants who might come at them from behind. 

 

When she reaches the rusted metal door with flaking dull green paint, she takes a steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and continuing this much as she started it.

 

She knocks on the door.

 

Will stands next to her as she unsheathes her second sword, his pistol aimed squarely at the space in front of Amelia. Someone shuffles inside and his finger tightens over the trigger. The noise grows closer before the metallic lock on the door slides over with a rusty groan. The door opens with a whining creak, leaving just enough space to step inside.

 

Neither of them move to enter.

 

The room itself is darker than the outside. Will’s heart pounds as he blinks, trying to force his eyes to adjust. 

 

“Right on time.”

 

The satisfied voice echoes from somewhere deep within the room and Will immediately stiffens, shifting to aim his pistol into the darkness.

 

If Domino notices, he isn’t bothered in the least.

 

“Do come in, won’t you? I’m so grateful you didn’t keep us waiting.”

 

Amelia steps just inside the doorway and Will follows alongside her. As soon as they’re far enough in the room, the henchman who’d let them in emerges from behind the rusted-out door and shuts it again.

 

In a blur too fast for Will to see, Amelia has one of her swords trained on the man.

 

“Not behind us,” she orders, the tip of her sword an inch from his throat. “Move.” 

 

He stays stock-still. His eyes merely tick to the side as he gazes into the dark space across the room, as if he’s asking Domino what he should do.

 

_“Will?”_

 

Beth’s voice calls out from the darkness and Will jerks around to face it, his heart leaping into his throat. She’s okay. She’s _alive._ He knew she was, he knew Domino wasn’t stupid enough to get rid of his hand before playing it, but actually hearing her, being in the same room as her has relief crashing through him. 

 

It evaporates when his little sister immediately breaks into manic laughter.

 

“Oh, you assholes are dead,” Beth says, looking up at one of the two masked men standing next to her. “You know that? My brother’s here to save me. And he brought an actual superhero with him. You’ll regret every laying a hand on me, you douche-canoe! Bet you regret everything _now,_ don’t you? I bet-”

 

The man she’s taunting backhands her hard enough to knock her chair over.

 

Will sees red. 

 

He doesn’t think, can’t comprehend a single thing beyond Beth’s cry of stunned pain. He just aims and shoots. The bullet collides with the bastard’s collarbone and he falls back with an agonizing cry, blood pouring from the wound.

 

Just as quickly as the bullet left the gun, Amelia grabs the man who’d been guarding the door and disarms him. She holds him in front of her with a sword to his throat, using him as a shield as she tries to maneuver them both between Will and Domino. Will ignores her move, already taking aim at the man on the other side of Bethany where he stands over his baby sister, his gun pointed at her. He doesn’t care about the other masked man stepping out of the shadows to his right, zeroing in on him and Amelia. 

 

Not when it’s Beth at risk.

 

For a second, the only sound is Beth’s fearful cries.

 

“ _Enough_!” Domino shouts.

 

Every one of Domino’s men in the room stands down as the crime boss finally appears from the shadows, making soft tsking sounds from behind his mask and shaking his head as he steps around Beth. He moves to the man Will just shot, tilting his head as he crouches beside the henchman writhing in pain. Before anyone can do anything, Domino pushes a hand against the man’s wound, making him scream.

 

“Did I tell you to hit her?” Domino asks. “Were those your orders?”

 

The man’s in too much pain to be coherent. “Boss… _please.”_

 

Domino sighs. “You made things _messy._ Look at this.” He dips his fingers in the blood pooling around the man before holding them up. He rubs his red-stained fingers together. “It didn’t have to be messy. Such a waste. And I dislike waste nearly as much as I dislike messes.”

 

“Boss…” the guy chokes out, blood splattering over his lips, seeming nearly black in the low light.

 

“Yes,” Domino replies darkly. “I _am._ It would have been much better for you if you had remembered that. But maybe you can serve as a reminder to the others. Perhaps you aren’t a complete waste after all.”

 

Domino doesn’t rush as he picks up the fallen man’s gun from where it’d landed on the floor next to him. He doesn’t give an acknowledgement of the man’s pleas beyond a softly chastising, “Ah ah ah,” and a shake of his head. And he doesn’t so much as flinch before shooting the man three times in the chest.

 

Blood sprays across his mask as a shriek of pure terror splits the air.

 

Will fights against the instinctive need to rush to Beth’s side. She’s frenzied in her attempts to get away, trying to curl in on herself and drag herself away from Domino. But she’s still tied to the tipped-over chair lying on the floor and she can barely move, much less escape.

 

It does get Domino’s attention, though. The man stands up and turns to look down on her, his head still tilted. He was already terrifying, but the hints of blood over his whited-out eyes make him a thing of nightmares.

 

Will lurches forward despite the weapons trained on all three of them, and it’s only Amelia snagging his arm with a quiet choke of his name that stops him.

 

“Get away,” Beth demands, wriggling uselessly against her bindings. “Stay away from me!”

 

“Leave her alone,” Will roars as Domino steps closer to Beth and crouches down next to her, much as he’d done with the man he just killed. “I swear to _God…”_

 

“So dramatic,” Domino says, turning his bloodied mask up to Will. “You should be thanking me, William. I just killed the man who hurt her.”

 

“You took her to get us here,” Will snarls. “And it worked. You got us here, didn’t you? So now _let her go._ Leave her alone! She has nothing to do with this.”

 

Domino hums behind his mask. “The ones we love are always drawn into our affairs, aren’t they?” He looks back down at Beth, picking up a stray lock of her hair that’s fallen across her face and gently brushing it away. Beth flinches and every one of Will’s muscles tighten with the need to intervene. But Amelia’s still holding his arm, and some part of him is aware enough to know that he would only make it worse. That he might very well get her killed if he does move. Will stays still, growling under his breath, staring at Domino’s hand where it moves to stroke a blood-stained finger over Beth’s cheek. “And now her father will come home from work to find two dead security guards and his little girl missing. I have nothing against your stepfather. I have nothing against those guards. I don’t even have anything against your little Bethany here. No, this all goes back to you, William. You and Miss Prescott. Their deaths, their _pain,_ it’s all on you.”

 

Every word out of his mouth is more haunting than the last because of his tone - it’s so quiet, so gentle as he continues to stroke Beth’s cheek.

 

Will chokes on the bile that dances up the back of his throat.

 

“We didn’t kill anyone,” Amelia points out, pressing her sword harder where she has it held against her hostage’s throat. _“Yet.”_

 

“You don’t have it in you,” Domino replies. His amused smile is evident in his voice as he finally stands and faces them again. “Neither one of you are killers. Everyone here knows that. If you were, I wouldn’t have men wasting away in prison instead of populating the morgue. You’d have shot me the moment I identified myself at your friend’s house. No, you’re _ineffective._ A useless would-be superhero with no powers beyond the ability to get in my way.”

 

“You willing to bet his life on it?” Amelia demands, twisting the sword just enough to draw a thin ribbon of blood from the man’s throat.

 

“Oh please,” Domino scoffs, tilting his head as if he’s giving her a patronizing look from behind the mask. “While it might be an interesting exercise to see precisely how far I could push you, if you have any sense at all, you’ll realize that man you’re holding is only useful to you in that his body might slow down my bullet before it hits you. He was the one foolish enough to get grabbed. Clearly that makes him even more ineffective than you are currently. It’s such a shame, really. Good help is so hard to find these day.”

 

“Not surprising,” Will says, gesturing at the man he just killed. “You don’t have the best health benefits.”

 

“I had a plan!” Domino shouts. The abrupt change has everyone in the room jumping. With a disgusted noise, Domino grabs a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wipes some of the blood off his mask. He looks down at the stained piece of cloth with a snarl. “Look at this. Look at what a mess you’ve made of things. You’ve thrown a wrench in everything and thrown off my entire time table!” He stops and and looks back at Amelia with a belittling huff. _“Providence._ The only thing you’re fated to do is be a pain in the ass.”

 

“You tried to kill me!” Amelia snaps. “A half-dozen times. I really don’t care if my survival is an inconvenience to you.”

 

She’s right, and he knows it, but all Will sees and cares about at that moment is Bethany. She’s shaking violently, utterly terrified and crying so hard that her whole body quivers. Her arms and legs have stopped tugging at her restraints, but even from across the room Will can see the raw skin at her wrists and ankles from her trying too hard and too long.

 

He can’t take it.

 

“Just let me help my sister?” Will asks, casting Domino a pleading look. “Even if you won’t let her go, just let me take care of her. She’s just a kid. She’s scared. Don’t be the monster she thinks you are.”

 

“I don’t much care who she thinks I am,” Domino replies, tilting his head with a mocking sigh. “Did you really think I would? I don’t care that she’s a child, either. She’s a _number._ Just like you. Just like Amelia. It’s not nearly enough to tip the scales, even if I had hoped to achieve my ends without quite so many people sacrificed to it.”

 

“You lose nothing by letting me be next to her,” Will points out. Beth whimpers his name. _“Nothing.”_

 

“Perhaps,” Domino allows. “But I gain nothing either. And I do rather like the look of you in such desperation, William.”

 

Will hisses between his teeth, his hands clenching the gun tight enough that the grip probably leaves an impression on his palm. He has to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. He can’t afford them now, but Bethany is _right there._ She’s terrified. She’s hurt. She’s calling out for him and he can’t even close the dozen feet separating them to be at her side.

 

“You win,” Amelia says. Domino’s head swivels back to her. She shoves her captive away and lowers her sword. “That’s what you want, right? Fine. I give up.”

 

Domino doesn’t do anything, but Will has the impression he’s smirking behind his mask.

 

“Give Beth to us and we’ll go,” Amelia continues. “You’ll never hear about Providence again. You’ll never even _see_ us again. Isn’t that what you want? Everything tidied up?”

 

Silence greets them and Will wonders if Domino is actually considering it.

 

“You wanted Providence gone, right?” Amelia asks. She sheaths her swords and tugs her mask off. Will’s startled exhale has nothing on the sharp gasp from Beth on the floor. Amelia only has eyes for Domino, though. “There you go. She’s gone. You’ve killed her. I started this to bring you down, for justice and a sense of security. I’d still like those things, but none of them are as important to me as Will and Beth. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a useless superhero. Maybe it’s time I stop trying to change that and just go back to being myself instead.”

 

“Amelia?” Beth whispers, eyes wide and her jaw dropping.

 

Her voice finally has Amelia turning to her and the gentle smile that crosses her face breaks Will’s heart.

 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Amelia greets her. “Take a deep breath, okay? Try to calm down a little. We’re right here. Me and Will. We’re gonna do everything we can to keep you safe, okay?”

 

Domino snorts. “Do tell, _Amelia,_ what is it that you think you can do?”

 

Amelia pauses. She doesn’t have an answer and when she looks at Will with pained eyes and lips that don’t have the words she needs to speak, all he can do is stare back. He doesn’t know how to get out of this with all of them alive, he doesn’t know how to save Beth _and_ Amelia.

 

“Just tell us what you want,” Will says, looking at Domino with defeated eyes. “You got us here for a reason. There’s something you’re after other than just killing us. So what is it?”

 

“I want my life back!” Domino snaps. There’s enough anger in his voice that Will’s surprised his mask doesn’t rattle off at the force of it. “I want my plan on track. I want everything I was promised. I want _my_ destiny-”

 

“You mean you want your boyfriend back,” Amelia interjects. Domino’s surprised enough that he stumbles a step away from her. Amelia’s eyes never leave him, even as she edges a bit toward Beth. “That’s it, right? At the courthouse, you might’ve used the chaos to get him free. But we figured it out and messed that up for you. Nearly every time you’ve gone after me, it was to keep me from testifying against him. You’ve spent the last year trying to kill me because your boyfriend failed to do it the first time.”

 

Will isn’t sure if this is a good plan or not, but Domino’s hands curl into tight fists, Amelia’s words obviously hitting home in some capacity. The sight of that is more than enough for him to push forward.

 

“Have you even been able to see him since he got arrested?” Will asks. “Probably not. Visitor logs would be a problem for you, wouldn’t they? Unless you bribed a lot of people. But that only gets you so far. And you know Team Arrow would be watching hospital and prison feeds, too. You probably couldn’t risk calling either, not when you know the kind of hacking abilities our team has. So, in the last year, you’ve… What? Passed notes through the lawyer you hired?”

 

Domino doesn’t move. The pause goes on long enough that the hair on the back of Will’s neck starts rising. Had they made a mistake? 

 

“You’re more clever than I gave you credit for,” Domino says in a low voice. “I’ll give you that much. But it changes nothing.”

 

“No, actually, it does,” Amelia insists, taking another step forward. When someone cocks a gun and aims it at her, she puts her hands up. Her eyes stay glued to Domino. “It does because every one of these messes you don’t like? All of them give the police more clues to who you are. They’re more clever than you give them credit for, too. You’re careful, but you’ve stayed entirely out of sight for years. They know you were at Maggie’s. They’ll know you were here, too. Every person you hurt is one more trail for them to follow.”

 

Domino’s fists start shaking.

 

“So just let Beth go,” Amelia continues. “Let us all go. We’ll make sure she doesn’t say a word. Right, Bethy?”

 

“I w-won’t say anything,” Beth insists. “I swear.”

 

“See?” Amelia asks. “Then your boyfriend will get the charges dropped, so you’ll have him back. You can take credit for the hospital yourself and get right back on track. It’ll be neat and tidy. You can still have your plan. It just got delayed a little.”

 

Nothing happens.

 

It takes a moment of dead silence before Will realizes Amelia’s mistake. The second it hits him, his stomach drops, the blood draining from his face.

 

Domino never once implied he wanted to take credit for building the hospital.

 

That was always Powers.

 

“Amelia,” he breathes out. He can’t imagine she even hears it over the pounding of his heart, but the look of confusion on her face tells him that she did, and she doesn’t know what the problem is. Will’s entire chest caves in as he starts, “Get-”

 

“You,” Domino snaps, his voice vicious and echoing as he points at the man Amelia had held hostage. “Time to redeem yourself. Grab him.”

 

“What?” Amelia asks, her head whipping around.

 

“And you two,” Domino continues, talking to the two remaining henchmen. “Shoot the girls. Start with the little one.”

 

“No!” Will roars as they close in on Beth.

 

His heart lurches into his throat and adrenaline floods his body in a hot burn that smothers the rest of his senses save for his hearing. Beth’s screams fill the room as she wrestles against her bindings, her terror suffusing the air until it’s all Will can breathe. He tries to throw himself forward, but the man next to him is faster, grabbing him and slowing him down.

 

There’s no _time._ He can beat this asshole back, but his body can’t move fast enough, not with the two men turning to point their guns at Bethany. 

 

Pure fear floods his entire system.

 

“No!” Will screams again before stomping on the man’s foot and twisting, throwing an elbow back toward his face. It’s as much training as it is instinct driving him to get to Beth. His elbow connects with the mask, landing with a solid crack, but it doesn’t get him free. 

 

Too slow. He’s too slow. He can’t get free fast enough.

 

In front of him, Amelia throws her mask as hard as she can at Domino. Light reflects off the deceptively delicate-looking slip of metal as it spins end over end toward the mob boss. The sharp edges of it catch the side of his mask, chopping part of it clean off and slicing a bloodied line down Powers’ cheek.

 

“ _Goddamn it_!” Domino shrieks, his hand flying to his face. Blood seeps through his fingers as he points with his other hand. “End them! Now!”

 

Will wants to get free, to stop time, to change _all_ of this. But he can’t. All he can do is struggle against the man trying to impede him from getting to his baby sister…

 

And watch in horror as Amelia dives across the room to cover Beth’s body with her own.

 

His mouth opens to scream, to beg them to stop, to shoot him instead, but she’s already there.

 

The first shot rings out like a thunderclap, echoing off the bare concrete floor and walls. 

 

Will jerks. A shock of ice slugs him straight in the gut. His hands go numb, his gun falling to the concrete with a clatter, and then he’s falling backwards… falling and falling…

 

Suddenly, he’s right back on the art museum floor. Pain lances through his body and the warm, tacky flow of his own blood clings to his hands. He’s _there._ He can smell the spilled champagne and the metallic tang of his blood on the air. Alex’s voice is right next to his ear and somewhere nearby Jules is screaming.

 

Fuck, but he _hurts._

 

But as real as it feels, a voice screams in his head that it’s not. None of this is happening. It can’t be, not right now. Beth needs him. Amelia needs him. He doesn’t even know if they’re alive and he can’t check because all he sees is the ceiling of that fucking museum.

 

Except that’s not real. And he knows that.

 

Shutting his eyes, he tries to force his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms hard enough that he thinks they pierce the skin. But he doesn’t feel it. No, he feels the gaping hole a crossbow bolt just made in his gut. But that’s a lie his mind is telling him. Will concentrates on his hands, digging his nails in even deeper. It sears, burning, and he clings to it, trying to remember where he is, that he’s not on the floor, that there’s a man holding him back.

 

The hands on him are not Alex. The smell of blood is real, but it’s not his. There’s no spilled champagne - there should be a faint hint of a mildew-ridden, rust-tinged smell.

 

He slows his breathing, searching for it.

 

Beth had been screaming. God, he hopes she’s still screaming. That’d mean she’s alive… 

 

His ears ring with a distant hum of white noise. There is screaming, he realizes. And it’s not Jules. She’s not here. She’s not letting loose a pained rallying cry as she goes after Helena. So maybe it is Beth. Maybe it’s Amelia. 

 

_They need him._

 

_It’s not real._

 

_Not real._

 

He strains, listening harder as the voice becomes more indistinct, starts to sound less like Jules.

 

“Not real. Not there. Not real.”

 

His own voice breaks through the jumbled chaos and he grabs onto the sound with both hands, clinging for all he’s worth. Because _that_ is now. Because _that_ is here. And as awful as the moment he’s in really is, he needs to be present in it more than he’s ever needed anything else in his entire life.

 

“Guy’s lost it,” the man holding him says with a chuckle.

 

Him. He’s real, too.

 

Will blindly reaches back over his shoulder and grabs the man’s throat with bloodied, white-clenched fingers. The henchman lets out a startled gurgle, his muscles straining under Will’s steel grip. He can _feel_ it. He grounds himself further inside reality as the man scratches at his wrist, struggling to breathe.

 

Faster. He needs to be faster.

 

The impulse to _move_ overrides everything else. Will swings around, slamming his captor into one of the armed men who’d shot at Amelia and Beth. Will doesn’t skip a beat. He scoops up his gun from the floor and fires two quick shots at the remaining man standing over his girls.

 

Beth is still sobbing, but Amelia isn’t moving.

 

There isn’t any blood staining the floor around them.

 

So why isn’t she moving?

 

Panic has Will jerking forward with a strangled gasp and for a split second, he’s suddenly right back in the museum. He freezes. It doesn’t stop his mind from churning up the worst possible things, but he shoves them away.

 

He can’t do that, not right now. 

 

 _One step at a time_. 

 

“Get him!” Domino shouts, his hand still covering half his face where Amelia’s mask sliced him. The man who’d been holding Will leaps back to his feet and dives for him, knocking reality back into place - the only way to help Beth and Amelia is to get back to them in one piece. 

 

And by kicking this guy’s ass.

 

Will takes aim at the man’s center mass and tries to shoot, but the gun’s out of bullets. With a shouted curse, Will tosses the pistol away and takes a swing at the masked man. He ducks Will’s punch before throwing his own. Falling back on his training, Will treats the fight like a boxing match. He nails the guy with a couple of jabs, but he blocks more of them than not. It’s frustrating beyond words, especially when the bastard lands a kidney shot that sends a shock of pain strong enough Will has to fight to stay upright. It doesn’t stop him, though. It only makes him hit harder. Will doesn’t care how he wins, he just needs to _win._ He needs this over so he can get to Beth, to Amelia… 

 

“Get him!” Domino shrieks again in the background. “Kill him, now!”

 

It’s enough to make the man falter and Will snags the moment. 

 

He slugs the guy as hard as he can.

 

Pain erupts in his fist as it connects with the man’s jaw. The plastic mask he wears shatters into jagged pieces and something else cracks under the force. The brute falls like a sack of potatoes, his jaw tilted at the wrong angle, his head hitting the ground hard enough to echo through the room. 

 

Somewhere in the background, Will hears the scramble of shoes against the concrete floor, and some part of him registers that it’s Domino running away. It’s equal parts desperation and victory that wash through Will, knowing that he’s got the mobster on the run, that they’re _winning_ … 

 

But the victory is short-lived, as the last remaining henchman stands up and aims a gun right at Will’s chest. 

 

The only thing Will comprehends as he pulls the trigger is the sound of Beth screaming…

 

And then the click of an empty chamber.

 

In the split second of silence that follows, as all the blood rushes through Will's veins in a flood of shock and euphoria, the only thing he can think is how many bullets that means Amelia had shot at her. His mind had blanked the instant the first gunshot went off, rocketing him back into a flashback so hard and fast that he could have easily missed the rest.

 

And she still isn't moving.

 

The implications of that nearly send him to his knees, even as the man before him snarls in rage and raises his hand to hurl the gun at Will’s face before charging him...

 

Movement catches the corner of Will's eye and before he can so much as blink, it snags the man's ankle and yanks his feet out from under him. He topples in a mess of limbs, a blur of white leather that's really an elbow colliding with his temple in a brutal blow that has his eyes rolling back into his head.

 

 _Amelia_.

 

Her eyes find Will’s and he stops breathing. She's okay. She's alive. She's gasping and wincing, but there isn't any blood as she scrambles back to cover Beth's body with her own once more.

 

"Amelia?" he asks, not believing his eyes as he trips over the prone body of the unmasked man at his feet to get to her and Beth. The second he reaches her - the second his fingers graze her thigh - he knows she's okay. "Oh God. Thank God. Beth? Bethy?"

 

"We're okay," Amelia chokes out. 

 

She's shaking, tears staining her face - her blissfully, beautifully _alive_ face - but it’s not nearly enough assurance. Will crawls the last foot or so to wrap himself around both of them, searching their eyes in turn for confirmation they’re both okay. Part of his mind can’t believe it. He’d been so sure he’d lost at least one of them. But there’s no blood, and despite both of them being a mess of tears and bone-deep terror, they both have so much life shining in their eyes.

 

“You’re okay?” he asks again, needing to make sure. He brushes hair from Amelia’s face before reaching over her to cup Beth’s cheek. “Both of you?”

 

“Bulletproof armor under my suit,” Amelia replies, closing her eyes with a sigh of pained relief as she leans her cheek against his chest. “Thank your mother.”

 

“She saved me,” Beth croaks, curling into Amelia as best she can with her arms and legs still bound. “I thought… There were so many gunshots. One of them was close enough that I think it went through my hair and one bounced off her sword. But the rest… Amelia took all of them right in the back. For _me._ She could’ve died saving me. What if they’d hit her head? What if there was a gap in her suit? What if the bullets were super high tech?”

 

“Oh my God,” Will breathes, his fear about the amount of bullets used hitting him all over again. He’d come so close to losing both of them and the reality of that hits him full force. “Oh my God, but you’re okay. You’re both gonna be fine. I’ve got you.” He slams his eyes shut and kisses the top of Amelia’s head before craning his neck to kiss Beth’s temple. When he catches a hint of the shampoo she uses - the shampoo she also keeps at his house - he chokes out a sob of quiet relief. “Oh, thank God.”

 

“Get me free?” Beth asks. “I want… I need…”

 

“What do you need, kiddo? Anything,” Will promises, moving back a few inches to give Amelia enough room to unsheath one of her swords to cut through the bindings on Beth’s wrists.

 

“I need to kick them in the head,” Beth announces with a desperate wail, looking past Will to shout at an unconscious henchman sprawled out across the floor. “Fuckers had to wear a mask and tie up a _kid_ before trying to shoot her. What the shit is that? Fucking cowards.”

 

He might have enough sense later to correct her language, but right now all Will can think is how damn grateful he is to see his Beth shining through after an experience like this.

 

“Charming.”

 

Will’s head snaps around so fast his neck hurts.

 

Bloodied, angry and alone, Domino stands with half a mask on his face and a gun in his hands, aimed right at them. Blood coats his cheek and neck, twisting the maniacal gleam in his eye into something all the more chilling.

 

A breath catches in Will’s throat. He’d thought Domino had taken the opportunity to escape with his goons defeated, but arrogance and anger dominate the crime lord’s better judgement. A rush of fear races through Will at the realization that his assumption might very well cost them dearly.

 

“Maybe my mistake was not recruiting young enough,” Domino says. “She’s certainly got fire in her, doesn’t she?”

 

Will growls as Amelia moves to cover Beth instinctively. His sister’s legs are still tied to the chair, but her hands are free to cling to Amelia’s shoulders as she points her sword at Domino. 

 

But a sword from a distance does little good against a gun.

 

“Then again,” Domino continues, pulling the hammer back. “Maybe my mistake was not taking care of the matter on my own in the first place.”

 

Will braces, moving to a crouch in front of both Amelia and Beth. His eyes dart around for any kind of weapon at his disposal, but there’s nothing. There’s _nothing_. Just him, Beth, and Amelia with a sword in her hand.

 

They’ve come so far, beaten so much. But Domino won’t settle for a body shot against Amelia this time, and Will knows it. He won’t spare any of them. Will thinks he should be afraid, but he isn’t. No, he’s just pissed off. He grits his teeth, his fingers digging into the concrete. He’s _livid_. They’ve fought their way through everything, found so much to live for, have so much hope for the future, only to be thwarted by this.

 

No, that’s not how this is going to end.

 

An odd calm fills his chest. 

 

There’s no part of Will that wants to die, but he understands now what Amelia was trying to say earlier. Sometimes, you have to accept the risk and know it’s worth it. Amelia’s worth it. Beth’s worth it. And the dim hope for a future that looks like something out of his daydreams is worth it, too. 

 

But the only way to have a chance at that is to risk all of it.

 

Will shifts to the balls of his feet. He can reach Domino without letting him get a clear shot at Beth and Amelia. He knows it, as surely as he knows Domino will shoot him in the process. But even if he lands a fatal hit, it would buy more than enough time for Amelia to act. She can save herself and Beth. He knows she can.

 

He has faith.

 

“Don’t,” Amelia snaps, terror filling her voice as she reads his crouched stance correctly.

 

“I’m grateful for every minute I’ve had with you, Amelia,” he tells her, ignoring her order. It’s meant only for her ears, but he’s sure Beth hears it, too. “It could never be enough.”

 

“ _No_ ,” she says, reaching for him, but Will’s already standing up. His eyes stay fixed on Domino and the gun that follows him as he moves, instead of staying trained on Amelia or Beth. _Good, keep it on me._ He hears the scrape of Amelia’s leathers against the concrete as she growls, “William Queen, don’t you _dare-_ ”

 

“I love you,” he says, so softly he’s not even sure she hears it.

 

“ _Will_ -”

 

A sudden thunderous metallic clang echoes through the room, jarring all of them.

 

Domino’s attention snaps toward the doorway where light streams in around several figures in the threshold. Amelia takes the opportunity of his distraction to slice through the rest of Beth’s bindings and tug the girl to her feet, keeping the child behind her as she backs toward a wall. She motions to Will, but he’s already scrambling back to join her.

 

There’s something distinctive about the silhouette of the person leading the charge into the room… 

 

The backlit outline of a woman with a chain whip.

 

Will’s shoulders sag in relief as Amelia lets out a ragged exhale.

 

“Normally, I’d be saying something witty right about now, but you’ve pissed me off,” Jules says, cracking her whip in the air. 

 

Domino’s gun is snatched from his fingers before any of them can blink. He gasps in outrage, but then the rest of the cavalry fills the room. Chief Malone and the officers he’d left the courthouse with file in, their weapons drawn. And there’s someone else, a man Will’s only seen in pictures, but loathes with the deepest parts of himself all the same.

 

“Blaine?” Domino asks, falling back a step. 

 

There’s a door not far behind him, Will realizes. If Domino’s fast enough, there’s a chance he could escape. Not a great one, but it’s obviously enough for him to try. Jules is faster, though. Her whip flies through the air, slicing across Domino’s back with enough force to shred through his jacket and shirt, carving a line across his skin from waist to shoulder blade. He cries out, colliding face-first with the door. It leaves a bloodied smear against the rusted metal.

 

“Try it again and you lose a hand,” Jules bites out.

 

A whimper from behind Will draws his attention. It takes him a second to realize Beth has no idea Tempest is Jules. And while the police are probably a relative comfort to her right now, she probably isn’t very trusting of them either.

 

“You’re okay,” Will promises, turning around and pulling her into his arms. He cups the back of her head, stroking her hair as Amelia shifts to block them from Domino’s view. “She’s a friend. It’s okay. This is almost over.”

 

“It’s not _over!”_ Domino shouts as he wheels around. The remnants of his bloodied mask fall to the ground with a clatter, leaving nothing but Powers’ manic eyes and gory face staring wildly at Will. “A _decade_ we’ve been working toward this. A _decade._ I’m due results! There was a _plan.”_

 

“Sometimes,” Amelia says slowly, her eyes turning to Will, “it’s a good thing when life doesn’t go according to plan.”

 

Despite everything happening right now, the answering smile he gives her is soft and filled with awe.

 

“Senator Derek Powers,” Malone says, stepping forward with a pair of handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent-” 

 

“I have powerful friends,” the senator interrupts, his voice leveling off as he smiles at the police chief. It might have been effective if his face wasn’t caked in blood. “None of this will stick. I’ll find a way out. I always do. You’re a smart man, Malone. You could get ahead of the curve now. If you and your men help me out, I can reward you handsomely. Anything you want. Just help me. Help me deal with these would-be vigilantes, give me Blaine, and I’ll get you anything you want.”

 

“Whatever I want?” Malone repeats, pausing a foot in front of Powers.

 

“Anything at all,” Powers promises.

 

“I want to never know what my wife’s eyes look like without life in them,” Chief Malone says before roughly grabbing Powers’ hands. He slaps the handcuffs on as the disgraced senator sputters. “Can you give me that, you son of a bitch?”

 

Powers’ gaze darkens, his eye twitching as he snarls, “You’ll regret this. I’ll make sure of it. None of this will stick.”

 

“Sure it will,” Tempest says, stepping forward with a menacing grin. “Your boyfriend here cut a deal. Guess he wasn’t cool with rotting in prison. He gave you up, Derek. He’s giving us a list of every person in your organization and all the details of your financial schemes. Seems like we’d only scratched the surface there. You’re _done._ And, I gotta say, it is _goddamn good_ to see you finally fall.”

 

Domino pales, eyes ticking over to his shackled boyfriend. “He would _never.”_

 

“After _a year?”_ Ketherington demands. He raises his hands for emphasis, his own handcuffs punctuating his words. “You might be surprised what I’d do after _months_ in a hospital bed and every day since that spent behind bars, Derek. Your mission took my life from me. I’m taking it back.”

 

 _“Our_ mission,” Powers roars, but it lacks all the intimidation he aims for. _“Ours!”_

 

Ketherington’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

 

The once-powerful senator seethes, but he can do little more than sputter insults and threats as Malone drags him outside while the other officers start securing his injured men.

 

It’s Jules who turns to Will and Amelia first, offering them a smile as she saunters over.

 

“Looks like you had one hell of a fight,” she says, touching Will’s jaw where he’d taken a punch. He shies away from her hand with an annoyed wince and she looks through the sliver of space that exists between him and Amelia to Bethany. “You okay back there, squirt?”

 

“Yeah,” she murmurs with a sniff and a shrug, tilting her chin up. “I’m cool.”

 

Jules purses her lips and her brows knit as she stares at the eleven-year-old. “Will, are you good if I take my mask off?”

 

Will lets out a strained sigh. It’s half because there’s no avoiding Beth finding out the depth of his family’s involvement in vigilantism and half because all of the henchmen in the room are finally well and truly secured. The danger’s passed. For good.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, releasing Beth enough to tug Amelia into his arms with a weary hug. She wraps her arms around him, but she only has eyes for Beth.

 

“Here’s the thing,” Jules says, tugging off her mask. Beth’s eyes go wide and her jaw drops. “I’ve got a pretty solid idea what it does to a kid to have a madman kidnap and hurt her. ‘Cause it happened to me. So, cut the bravado bullshit, huh? You’re allowed to be scared.”

 

Beth doesn’t move for a very long moment, eerily quiet before she casts a wary look at Will. “You have, like… _loads_ of explaining to do.”

 

“Yeah,” Will replies. “I know.”

 

Beth glances back at Jules once more before her eyes fall to Amelia. A soft, almost shy smile covers her face. “I don’t have to be scared,” Beth says. “I had a superhero save me. And she’s the coolest and most awesome person I’ve ever met. No offense, Jules.”

 

Jules snorts, trying and failing to muffle a laugh. “Who do you think taught her?”

 

A wide-eyed, awed look graces Beth’s face, but Amelia interrupts.

 

“I was scared,” she says, reaching out to rub Beth’s arm from the cocoon of Will’s embrace.

 

“Really?” Beth asks.

 

“Absolutely terrified,” Amelia admits. “But sometimes you have to fight through the things you’re afraid of to get to something better.”

 

“Yes,” Will says, looking at Amelia with a quiet sigh. “Sometimes you do.”

 

She meets his gaze. There’s a light in her eyes and a hopefulness that’s clear of the ever-present fear haunting their lives for the last year. Even with smeared mascara and dirt smudging her cheek and a cut lip, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

 

“I love you,” Amelia says with a smile that pinkens her cheeks and tugs at the corners of her eyes.

 

“I love you, too,” he replies, leaning in and kissing her. He lingers with a soft press of his lips to hers. There’s a hint of a sting where his lip took a beating, and he feels her wince under the pressure against her own cuts, but neither of them relent. Considering everything, it’s a tiny price to pay for being alive. Being _together_. They linger and the warmth of her skin bleeds into his, sending a surge of relaxation right through him. If this is what the future feels like, he’s going to cherish every single day like the gift that it is.

 

Will raises one hand to cup her cheek. His thumb strokes along the ridge of her cheekbone and she sighs against his lips, slipping her arms around his neck.

 

“Get a room,” Jules tells them as Beth lets out an embarrassed giggle.

 

He pulls back to give Jules a long-suffering look, but Amelia’s staring at him with a lifted eyebrow of agreement and he stops short of sassing his sister. Everything he wants is right here. Amelia in his arms. Beth safe and whole. Jules confident and strong. Some time alone with Amelia sounds wonderful, but there’s plenty of time for that later. A never-ending string of days, if he has his way.

 

Right now is about more than just them.

 

“How’d you find us?” Will asks Jules. He can’t help reaching out and resting a hand on Beth’s shoulder as he remembers the horrible sight of her on the tablet, helpless and terrified.

 

“Mom and I weren’t far from the courthouse when we realized wifi and cell service was out for most of the city,” Jules tells him. “You know mom, a few strokes of the keys and she realized it wasn’t some giant weird glitch. We headed back to the courthouse because it was closest and we figured power in numbers was the way to go.”

 

“And you met up with Malone?” Amelia asks.

 

“Maggie apparently had some idea of what was going on,” Jules replies. “He got her to the U.S. Marshals to head to the hospital before heading back to the courthouse himself. Mom and I actually ran into him in the entryway. We were trying to get a better idea of what was going on when your app activated and pushed the video feed through. She used that to trace back to the source of the wifi jam and we left her at the courthouse with a computer and a landline to try and hack through it. Using the app was a damn smart move, Will. We’d have been lost without that. I wouldn’t have gotten here in time.”

 

“Without Amelia, I never would have figured out the courthouse was a setup or that Powers was behind it all,” Will says, looking back at his girlfriend to find her staring at him with blatant affection.

 

“You and I make a pretty good team, Will Queen,” she murmurs. “Just don’t go planning to rush a man trying to shoot us again, okay?”

 

“As long as you don’t try to take a bullet for me,” he agrees. “Your suit might be bulletproof, but you’re not.”

 

“Well, I don’t think that’ll be a problem anymore,” Amelia replies. Will furrows his brow at her in a silent question, and she traps her lower lip between her teeth before settling her hand over his heart. “I got into this to take down Domino. Providence served her purpose. Her mission is done. I think it’s time to let her rest and go back to being Amelia Prescott instead. Her life is the one I want to lead, not Providence’s.”

 

Will can only blink. He stares at her, wondering if he’s hearing what he thinks he is. He opens his mouth just as something shiny catches his eye. He turns to see what’s left of Providence’s disguise embedded in the bloodied piece of Domino’s mask that had been sliced off his face.

 

“It gave you purpose,” he says, looking back at her. “You felt like you needed to be her to take control of your life.”

 

“Yeah,” she replies before giving a half-shrug. “And I’ve done that. I don’t want to spend my nights slicing through bad guys and racing across rooftops anymore. We’ve beaten our monsters living in the shadows. Now, I want to spend my nights with _you._ I want us to go on morning jogs and catch the late show for the newest zombie flick and spend our free time at ballgames and taking Beth to the fair. I want to be normal with you, Will. I want us to have the life we should’ve had years ago, but I didn’t know how to fight for yet. And I don’t need to be Providence for any of that. And I don’t even _want_ to be.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, a huge grin crossing his face as he nods fiercely before pulling her into a tight hug. He kisses her temple and breathes her in. The idea of knowing she’s _safe_ , that she’s not being hunted and she’s not out on the streets looking for danger makes it feel as if a weight has slid right off his shoulders, dissolving and floating away before it hits the ground. _“Yes._ God, that sounds amazing.”

 

“Okay,” Beth says, “but you’re totally still _my_ superhero. Like my own personal one. And if you ever wanted to teach me how to take a man down three times my size, I wouldn’t say no. You know, between taking me with you to the movies and ballgames and the fair.”

 

Will pulls back from Amelia to shoot his baby sister a warning look.

 

“Just for self-defense!” Beth insists, holding up both hands. A low hiss from Jules has his eyes dropping down to Beth’s wounded wrists and he grimaces, for both his sisters. Even after a decade, the memory of Jules’ own kidnapping is never far from the surface. Beth doesn’t notice their reactions. “Totally pinky swear. I’m not gonna pick up archery and be all ‘ _grrr, you’ve broken this city, bad guy.’”_

 

“Failed,” Jules corrects in exasperation. “It’s _‘You have failed this city.’_ Seriously? You don’t even know The Arrow’s catchphrase? It’s older than you. It’s older than _me.”_

 

“I’m eleven,” Beth reminds her with a deadpan stare. “Ask me all the members of Five Directions On The Block and I can totally tell you their life stories. I’m a little less up to speed on, like… politics.”

 

“Everything about the words you just said is offensive,” Jules tells her.

 

The smile Beth sends her in reply is damn near preening.

 

She’ll be okay, Will realizes. There will be a fallout - both psychologically for her and with how her father will take everything - but she’ll be okay. She’s a strong kid and he believes in her. Plus, he and Amelia will be there to help her deal with everything, even as they work on dealing with their own trauma.

 

For the first time, despite everything else, that doesn’t seem quite so daunting.

 

“That’s some nasty rope burn.”

 

Malone steps around Jules and gently clasps Beth’s fingers, twisting her hands in his to examine her wrists. 

 

Beth is silent, watching him with a pinched brow.

 

“I’m sorry you went through all this,” Malone says. “We should get you to a hospital…” His eyes dart to Will and Amelia. “And we should probably talk about your statement to the police.”

 

Will stiffens, his gaze flying to Jules and then Amelia. Both of them are unmasked in front of half a dozen police officers. He hadn’t stopped to think about what that might mean.

 

“Is that going to be a problem?” Will asks.

 

“No,” the police chief replies with a shake of his head as he lets Beth’s hands go. Then his face tightens into a battered frown. “I’ve known who your dad is for a couple decades now, Will. My wife and I didn’t have secrets from each other. And my men here today are loyal to me. I know that in my bones. They’re the same team that helped me bring down my deputy chief of police. They’ve already proven themselves. But, honestly, I’d trust about anyone on the force right now. You guys helped bring in a crime kingpin who ordered a hit on the police chief’s wife. Any of the boys in blue are going to stand up for you.”

 

“That’s a charming change of pace,” Jules murmurs, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “Maybe you could get them to run after me a little slower in the future. Or at least chase my father at half the pace. His knees are shit.”

 

“I can’t see how he’s still doing any of this anymore,” Malone replies. “I get tired just watching video feed of him. It makes _my_ knees hurt.”

 

“He is remarkable,” Will says.

 

“Yes, he is,” Malone agrees. “And so are all of you. Today I saw Providence die a hero saving a little girl. I’ve got her bloody mask as evidence. She sent me some video of the child being held captive earlier today. That’s how my boys and I got here.” He glances at Will and Jules. “Sorry to leave you two out of it, but it’s probably better if we let my guys take the credit for bringing Domino in after Providence’s sacrifice.”

 

“I don’t do any of this for the credit,” Jules replies before glancing at Will with a solemn look. “And I can promise Will would rather stay out of it entirely.”

 

He nods in agreement.

 

“Think you can say that?” Malone asks Beth. “I know it’s stretching the truth, but it’s to protect your brother and Amelia. Do you think you can lie just a little?”

 

Will snorts as Bethany gives the police chief a huge grin. “Does a worm have teeth?”

 

“Uh…” Malone blinks in confusion, glancing at Will with a raised eyebrow before looking back at Beth. “Well... No. At least, I don’t think so. Biology was never my… Why are we talking about worms having teeth?”

 

“Bet I could convince you they do by the time I was done talking,” Beth declares, eyes lighting up at the challenge. She scoffs. _“‘Can I lie a little?’ Please_. I was born for this.”

 

Malone stares at her with a gleam of newfound respect. “I can’t decide if that’s comforting or not.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Will insists, squeezing Beth’s shoulder and shaking his head at her. “But you’re right about one thing, Chief. We should get her to a hospital and we should all get out of here. I’m ready to leave this behind.”

 

“Me too,” Amelia adds, looking at him with a bright happiness that takes his breath away. 

 

He’d almost lost this. Almost lost her. Almost lost himself. He silently vows that he will never take any of it for granted again. 

 

“We have so many better things ahead of us,” Will murmurs.

 

He takes her hand and brushes his thumb across her inner wrist, just like he had a lifetime ago at brunch when everything between them had seemed so impossible. And, just like back then, her cheeks flame up, making her seem even more alive as she sucks in a quick breath. She bites into her lower lip and dips her head, letting a curtain of hair hide her face. But she peeks up at him with a promise in her smile and a light in her eyes he never could have understood back then.

 

“We do,” she agrees. “So why are we still standing here?”

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there is just the epilogue to come. That'll be next week. For now, as things come to a close, I hope you enjoy this moment with our heroes. I think they've earned it. 
> 
> <3

It isn’t until well after sundown that they finally walk through their front door.

 

Even with everything that happened, Will doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he’s checked the entire condo for intruders. Old habits die hard, and they’ve spent months on edge with one attack after the other. Once the team and the SCPD have finished rounding up Domino’s boys, maybe Will can start letting down his guard.

 

It’s only when he winds up back in the living room and sees Amelia slouched against the front door with a tired, relaxed smile tugging at her split lip that reality starts to sink in.

 

The battle is over.

 

And they _won._

 

“Come here?” she asks, holding out her hand for him. His feet close the distance between them without him giving it any conscious thought. He tangles his fingers with hers and buries his nose in her neck with a sigh that lets go of all the strain he’d been holding on to deep in his muscles. Her free hand drifts through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and tension he hadn’t even realized was there melts away under her touch. Amelia smiles against him. “We did it.”

 

Will pulls back to look at her. “We did,” he agrees, pressing his forehead to hers. “Together.”

 

Amelia’s answering hum sounds a lot like a smile. “Best way to do anything.”

 

He chuckles, nuzzling her nose with his. “Yes, it is.”

 

A grin pulls at her mouth as she bites into her lower lip.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you to see Maggie at the hospital,” Will says, edging away so he can see her fully. “I couldn’t get myself to leave Beth.”

 

“Oh God, don’t worry about it at all,” Amelia says, waving off his apology. “Maggie understood. I didn’t want to leave Beth either, but I needed to see Maggie and the baby, too.”

 

“Her labor went fast,” Will notes, trying to think back to when Beth was born. It felt like forever at the time, and he’d been thoroughly annoyed about it. Nate had taken his time, too. With Ellie, Felicity hadn’t even made it to the hospital, though. He can’t remember with Jules. Despite his personal experiences, he knows as a firefighter that babies arrive on their own schedule. 

 

“An hour and twelve minutes,” Amelia confirms. “Her water broke on the way to the hospital and they didn’t even have time to do an epidural. She was exhausted when I saw her, and sore, but she’s okay and so’s the baby… Little Gene.” She breaks away and flushes at that. Not that long ago, she hadn’t been certain that her friendship with Maggie would endure their recent trials. But today, she got to hold her godson, who’s named after her middle name, Jean. The amount that means to her is plain to see in the pinkened apples of her cheeks and the soft affection of her eyes as she pauses to savor the sound of his name. “I wish you could’ve seen Maggie’s face when I told her Domino was under arrest. She broke down sobbing. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve seen Maggie cry.”

 

“At least they were relieved tears,” he says, bringing their laced finger up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I might’ve shed a few, too.”

 

She snorts, crinkling her nose at him. “I was all waterworks when she let me hold my godson. Giant blubbering mess, right here.”

 

There’s no part of him that regrets sticking by Beth at the hospital, but he aches to have been there to see Amelia tearfully cooing over a newborn. Just the idea stirs something deep inside his soul that he doesn’t have the words to describe.

 

“Did Beth say anything while I was gone?” Amelia asks.

 

_“You need to marry her, Will.”_

 

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” he replies with a quiet smile and a tiny shrug before switching gears. “David was a bigger mess than he wanted to let on with you there, though.”

 

Amelia sighs and drops Will’s fingers to push both her hands through her hair. He catches sight of her pearl earrings at the motion. Had it just been this morning that he’d helped her put those on? It feels like a lifetime ago.

 

“I figured,” she admits. “He’s got a lot to process and he has every right to be terrified. I’m just glad he doesn’t hate me.”

 

“You saved his little girl,” Will reminds her. “You threw your body over her and took bullets for her. He might not like vigilantes, but he definitely respects the hell out of _you._ It probably helps that you gave up the mask.”

 

“It helps me,” she says. “That’s not a weight I wanted to carry around for the rest of my life. I’m not like your dad, or Jules, or Ellie. I’m glad I did this, but…”

 

“But you’re glad it’s over,” he finishes for her with a nod. She tilts her head in silent agreement and he pulls her into his arms for a hug, savoring the warm press of her body to his. “So am I.”

 

She’s quiet for a long moment, leaning into his embrace and letting herself finally relax in a way he thinks she hasn’t done in months. If someone had told him last spring that he could give this to her - that she could find real peace and contentment in his arms, letting go of all the horrors that have haunted them for so long - he never would’ve believed it.

 

They stay like that for a long while, his hand drifting up and down her back as she strokes the base of his neck with her thumb.

 

“How long do you think it will be until they’ve rounded up all of Domino’s boys?” she asks.

 

“I’d say probably a few weeks,” Will guesses. “They’ve got a solid list from Ketherington as part of his plea deal. Felicity’s already working on tracking them all down and trying to untangle the layers of finances. It’s a mess and she still doesn’t understand where most of his funding came from. The henchmen are easier, but I’d bet a few will run. How are you feeling about Thad being on that list of warrants issued?”

 

She doesn’t answer right away, and he waits patiently. He’d much rather have her honesty than a knee jerk reaction.

 

“I don’t feel anything,” Amelia finally says, pulling back to look at him. If he’s reading her right, he thinks she’s surprised at that realization. “Not really. There’s no satisfaction, and I’m not upset. I guess I am a little sad that it came to this. He had some good aims politically. He could’ve done a lot of good for people. But he chose his path, just like I chose mine. He belongs in jail and it’s important that he pays for what he’s done. I’m glad it looks like he will, but I’m not going to take any kind of joy in him being behind bars. And I certainly don’t think he should be spared, either. So… I’m apathetic, I guess.”

 

Will shakes his head. The truly amazing part is that she means every word of it.

 

“You’re definitely a better person than me,” he tells her.

 

She laughs and shakes her head. “I am not.”

 

“No, you definitely are,” Will counters. “Because I will be actively fighting the urge to show up at his sentencing just to stick my tongue out at him while they drag him off in shackles.”

 

“I doubt they’ll use shackles,” Amelia says with a snort.

 

“Hey, hey... Don’t ruin the image for me. Let me be petty here. It’s been a long time coming.”

 

She laughs and rolls her eyes at him. “ _Men_.”

 

“He belittled you,” Will reminds her. “He used you. He threatened you. He threatened my _sister._ I don’t think I’m out of line by enjoying him finally getting his just desserts.”

 

“And none of that is because I used to wear his engagement ring, right?”

 

“Well, that depends,” he replies. “Were you happy wearing it?”

 

She’s not expecting that, judging by the way she frowns. “Of course not. That’s why I ended it.”

 

“Then that’s _another_ reason I don’t like him,” Will says. “Because he didn’t make you happy. And you have always, _always_ deserved to be happy, Amelia.”

 

Her lips part as understanding dawns in her eyes. Amelia’s hand slips from his neck up to his face, her fingers running a soft line from the back of his jaw to his chin as she looks at him in wonder. “I’m happy now,” she says and his heart swells. “With you.”

 

“Good,” he says, gripping her tighter as his gaze drops to her lips before locking on her eyes again. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.”

 

A smirk lights up her face. “Everything?”

 

“Oh yes,” Will breathes, the words heavy with intent. _“Everything.”_

 

Her smirk evens out into a smile and she leans in to brush her nose against his before leaving a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. It’s achingly gentle, but that doesn’t stop the slight touch from searing his nerve endings, leaving him breathless as shocks of electricity zing across his skin.

 

Will pulls her closer, curling his hands around her hips as he kisses her back. He has to fight himself from escalating it too quickly, despite the almost primal urge to do just that beating deep in his chest after the day they had. There’s something joyful and teasing about the way she’s kissing him right now and he wants to savor it, to memorize the way her smile feels against his lips, how the soft puff of heated air she gives ghosts across his cheek, the way her tongue darts out just enough to touch the ridge of his lips.

 

He wants to live in this moment as long as he can.

 

Amelia pulls back with a satisfied hum and drapes her arms around his neck. “You know what would make me happy right now?”

 

“I have a couple ideas,” he replies, trying to sound casual but missing by a mile.

 

“A _shower_.”

 

God, that sounds _heavenly._ She’d scrapped her suit the second they got into her car, changing back into her normal clothes. And he knows her well enough to know that she scrubbed as much as she could before holding Maggie’s baby earlier, just to ensure the newborn’s safety. But they’ve had a hell of a day. When he thinks about all they’ve endured, a hot shower sounds damn amazing.

 

“Mind if I join you for that?” Will asks.

 

“I mind if you don’t,” she replies with a wink. She lets her hands trail down his chest before stepping away. He’s loathe to let go of her hips. The familiar curve beneath his palms anchors him beautifully in the moment with her. And, like she knows that, she grabs hold of his hand as she heads to the bedroom, glancing at him over her shoulder as she tugs him along.

 

Just like the first time he’d followed her into her room, his heart all but stops at the sight.

 

She lets him go when they enter the bathroom and he’s perfectly content to just watch when she leans over to start running the shower. It steams up the room quickly, leaving his shirt heavy and sticking to his skin. There’s more than a little sweat and grime covering him from the fight, along with cuts and bruises all his own, but he doesn’t really care about them, not as he watches her move. Despite the truly amazing bulletproof armor that saved her life, her motions are a bit stiff.

 

The scalding hot shower will feel fantastic on both of their muscles.

 

“Let me help you,” Will says when she reaches for the hem of her shirt. 

 

Her hands fall away and with a quiet smile, and she gives him a small nod over her shoulder. He leans in and kisses the spot just behind her ear as he takes hold of the edge of the blouse. The instant his lips touch her skin, she lets out a sudden breath and it sends a little thrill through him. It leaves him connected with her on a base level. What they share is so much more than physical, but every touch highlights the differences between this relationship and all the ones that came before it. Because he can actually _feel_ her joy, her emotions spiraling into his, her arousal setting him on fire. Just knowing that her heart beats faster at the barest touch of his lips to her skin has his pulse pounding.

 

“God, I love you,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear before shifting back just enough to tug her blouse over her head and toss it aside.

 

She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t have to. There’s nothing she can say about her feelings that he doesn’t already know. And there’s a strange kind of peace in that, in the security of _them._  

 

She turns in his embrace and wraps her arms around his neck, watching him with soft, serious eyes. Her fingers skate over his back, sending shivers down his spine before she leans in and kisses him. It’s slow and precise, and it leaves his head spinning. His fingers spread wide as he trails his hands down her bare back until he reaches the waist of her skirt. They settle there, bracketing her hips and keeping her close.

 

The heat between them simmers, a low flame that will surely lead to a steady boil before too long. But there’s nothing to hurry right now. Letting go and leaving things to progress naturally just feels right. If they rush ahead, they’ll miss the _now_ of it all.

 

Which would be such a damn shame.

 

Amelia breaks from the kiss, giving him a dazed, happy look. “I’m glad we’re home.”

 

“Me too,” Will agrees, wondering if she has any idea of all the ways he takes her words. His fingers trace along the waistband of her skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he looks past her to the water of the shower. “We should get in. We’re using up all the hot water.”

 

“You just want me naked,” she accuses as she lets him go to reach behind her back and unclasp her bra.

 

“No,” he insists, feigning offense. “Not _just.”_

 

Amelia laughs as she tosses her bra to the side before toeing off her shoes as she undoes the button of her skirt. He takes the opportunity to tug his own shirt off and by the time the fabric isn’t impairing his view, she’s fully nude and leaning into the shower to test the water.

 

Will freezes, moaning aloud at the sight.

 

There’s nothing he _doesn’t_ like about her, physically or otherwise. But her ass is _right there_ and… 

 

_Damn._

 

“Seriously?” she asks with a chuckle as she glances back at him. Her hair falls to the side in a gorgeous cascade, highlighting her breasts where they hang perfectly, even if he can only see the outer curve of one from the angle he’s at. 

 

“Uh, yes. Yeah. Definitely,” he says, hooking his thumbs in his pants pockets and giving a shrug. Her gaze drifts down to his tented pants, something that only makes his groin tighten further. 

 

She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth before breathing out a soft, _“Oh.”_

 

Her lips hold the shape longer than necessary after the word is out.

 

If it gives him _thoughts…_ Well, he’s just a man, after all.

 

She straightens her spine and, with hooded eyes, she steps into the shower, turning halfway to face the spray. Tipping her head back, she lets the water hit her face and cranes her neck as it drenches her hair. He stands stock still for far too long, watching as rivulets flow down the lines of her body like an artist’s paintbrush strokes.

 

“Better get naked and get in here with me, then,” she orders.

 

Far be it for him to disagree with that.

 

Will keeps his eyes fixed on hers as he strips the rest of the way and steps into the shower to join her. She backs up a few inches to give him room, but even that is too far. He steps into her bubble and cups her face before sliding his fingers back to bury in her wet locks of hair that channel streams of water down her back.

 

“Hi,” he says.

 

“Hi,” she echoes, leaning into him and resting a hand on either side of his neck, urging him closer so his thighs touch hers, her breasts brushing his chest. He’s hyper-aware of his cock pressing against the soft skin of her lower belly. 

 

Still, the physical nature of everything between them simmers, secondary to the weight of the day.

 

“I’m so relieved it’s all finally _over,”_ Will confesses. “It was close. Today scared the hell out of me. I thought I was gonna lose you. I thought I was gonna lose everything.”

 

Amelia nods, giving him a slip of a smile. He doesn’t feel judged, not at all. He feels _understood._ Opening up like this is important. He gets that now. Especially when it comes to their relationship. There are things he’ll need to share with her, even when it’s hard. Maybe especially when it’s hard.

 

“I did, too,” she admits. “And just because we won doesn’t mean that getting past everything that happened today will be any easier. I’ll have nightmares where I can’t get to Beth on time. Others where you charge Domino and I have to watch you die. I know that.”

 

“One more thing for us to talk to the therapists about,” he says with a dry laugh.

 

Her eyes widen, a light of hope brightening them. “You’re going to talk to a therapist?”

 

A flush works its way across his cheeks, and he licks his lips, suddenly nervous. But he doesn’t shy away. “I can’t do this alone,” he says quietly. “I’m not okay. But I want to be. So… Yeah. My dad was going to see if he could get me an appointment with the person Jules and Ellie went to after they got kidnapped. The department has someone they want me to see, too, but I can’t tell them about the vigilante stuff. So I know that won’t be enough.”

 

She tilts her head, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s pretty amazing. _You’re_ pretty amazing.”

 

“I’m not the one who put up with me being a grouch in denial for months.”

 

“Sure you are,” Amelia says. The way she looks at him makes him feel like she’s seeing _all_ of him. “Inescapably. You put up with it every day for almost a year. And I’m just really glad that you’re fighting against it now, so that you don’t have to do that anymore.”

 

“I’m glad neither of us do,” he forces himself to say, rather than brushing off the praise. Will switches subjects, running his fingers up her spine. “How’s your back?”

 

“Sore,” she admits. “I’ll probably be bruised tomorrow. But it’s in one piece, so I have no complaints.”

 

“It took me a minute or two,” he says, staring at a freckle on her shoulder. “When they shot at you, I mean. Or, at Beth, really. It took me a bit before I knew what happened.”

 

Amelia’s brows furrow. “You had a flashback?”

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I think it was shorter because I was more afraid of losing you and Beth than I was when I thought I was the one dying. I needed to be present.”

 

“Hopefully the therapists will have better options for you to pull yourself out of them than life-or-death situations for people you love,” she says, smoothing her hand over his heart. “But I think it’s pretty remarkable that you managed to do that all on your own when you had to.”

 

Will takes a slow breath and nods. Maybe now that the danger has passed, the real healing can finally start.

 

“Do you think Beth will get nightmares?” he asks, meeting her gaze. “The kind we get, I mean.”

 

She pauses, biting her lip hard enough he’s surprised the cut in her lip doesn’t start bleeding. “Maybe,” she says solemnly. “But if she does, she has an advantage you didn’t have.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

 _“You.”_ When he starts a little at that, she leans into him. “Will, you know what to look for. I do, too. I hope she copes well right off the bat. But if not, she’s got two people who love her and who can relate and guide her through it.”

 

It’s another reason to go to therapy, he realizes. He needs to help himself so that he can help Beth.

 

“They’re coming here after she’s out of the hospital,” Will says. “Domino’s guys killed two security guards that were protecting Beth at her house. They can’t go back there right now. And even if they could, I can’t imagine putting Beth through that. At least the condo is familiar and I think she’ll feel safer with us around. David said he’s got an air mattress he can set up in her room for himself. I’m not sure how long they’ll be here. Sorry, I should’ve run this all by you earlier.”

 

Amelia frowns. “What are you talking about?”

 

“It’s your house, too,” he replies. “I know you’d never object to Beth being here, but there’s also David. And you don’t know him all that well.”

 

“Will… Honey, this is _your_ house,” she says with a little laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m a guest here, just like they will be. For the same reason.”

 

There’s so much wrong with her words that he doesn’t even know where to begin.

 

“You are not my _guest,”_ Will says, tugging her closer by her hips. “You’re the only woman I want to share my life with. My house is your house, too. That’s what makes it a home.”

 

“Are you…” Amelia’s mouth moves soundlessly. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

 

He chuckles. “Honey, I’m pretty sure you already have.”

 

“I have two drawers in your dresser and a pile of things under your sink,” she tells him. “If you think that’s me ‘moved in’ then you’ve forgotten the size of my shoe collection.”

 

“Bring it,” Will replies, his voice dropping an octave. “Bring whatever you want. Just stay.”

 

A slow grin works its way across her lips. “I’ve told you since the beginning, Will Queen, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Thank God for that,” he murmurs before kissing her.

 

The need to talk disappears at the soft press of her body to his. He can express just as much by running his hands over her skin, by holding onto her and not letting go. When she lets out a small groan and sways toward him, his heart leaps in his chest as his body hardens at the brush of her belly against him. His fingers flex, digging into the swell of her hips. The water has got to be getting cold by now, but everything feels scorching in this moment.

 

Amelia pulls back with a hum, putting her finger to his lips to stop him when he tries to kiss her again.

 

“One condition,” she says.

 

He’s so goddamned dazed, he can’t figure out what she’s talking about. “What?”

 

“We get a new sofa.”

 

That confuses him even more. “We get a… That’s your condition for moving in?”

 

“It is. You wallow there and it makes you feel worse because it’s broken and awful. That sofa is an exercise in self-punishment and it needs to go.”

 

“Okay,” he replies, though it sounds more like a question.

 

Amelia raises an eyebrow. “You don’t mind me changing furniture?”

 

No. What he does mind is that they aren’t kissing right now. He’d really like to get back to that. The water’s running trails down her breasts and it’s _definitely_ gotten colder because her nipples tighten as he watches. A needy, mournful sound escapes him and he’s not the least bit ashamed.

 

“Honey, if you wanted us to move somewhere else entirely, I would’ve said yes,” Will tells her. He means it, but it stuns her, her eyes widening and her cheeks pinkening. God, she’s incredible and it only makes him want to kiss her more. “So, yes to a new sofa and yes to you moving in. Can we go back to kissing now?”

 

“When does Beth get here?” she asks instead.

 

He groans. He really doesn’t want to talk about his little sister right now. “Not tonight.”

 

“Then we’d better take advantage of being the only ones home while we can,” she says before reaching back and turning off the water.

 

“You do realize neither one of us actually washed,” he points out.

 

“That’s okay,” Amelia replies, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m pretty sure we’re both gonna need to clean up more in half an hour or so. Might as well let the hot water build back up.”

 

She’s always insanely sexy to him, but nothing tops the suggestive, confident look in her eyes as she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. It’s a hard-won look. He’s given her so many reasons to walk away, but she’s stayed fast in her support and belief in him. Despite all the ways he’s screwed up over the last year, they’re on the same page now. 

 

They finally have a solid foundation under their feet that wasn’t there before.

 

“You just gonna stand there and stare?” she asks, toweling off her hair.

 

“Maybe for a minute.” He grins. “It’s a hell of a view.”

 

“ _Will_.”

 

“I’m coming,” he says with a chuckle as he steps out.

 

“Not yet, you’re not,” Amelia replies. The way she laughs and bites the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she crinkles up her nose at her own joke easily makes it into the top ten most endearing sights he’s ever seen.

 

Will pulls her close. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” 

 

Amelia’s cheeks redden, gripping his shoulders with one hand to keep herself upright as she giggles into her other one. “Oh my God, that’s horrible.”

 

“Or fantastic, depending on how you look at it,” he counters with a wide grin.

 

Her giggles only get louder. 

 

Will’s heart thumps against his ribcage as a barrage of things hit him all at once. _This._ This is what was missing before. The honesty and openness, the vulnerability and admissions, the laughter and connection that comes with all of that. And somewhere between walking in the front door and stepping out of the shower with her, he made a choice.

 

A few months ago, he would’ve wallowed in the _what ifs_ for days. He’d have reached for his whisky and tried to drown out the sounds of Beth’s screams and the sight of Amelia diving to cover her little body as gunshots rang out. But those memories would have remained when he sobered up and he wouldn’t have been any better equipped to deal with them. Oh, they’ll still haunt him. He knows that. He’ll still wonder what he could have done differently, if he could’ve done something more. He’ll still replay it over and over in his head, trying to find a way to have kept Beth out of it entirely, a path that didn’t leave Amelia taking an entire clip of bullets to her back. There will be times those thoughts wake him with a scream on his lips and terror in his heart. But that can’t be all he is. He won’t allow it.

 

“Make memories, not regrets,” he says, tracing his fingers along the soft wrinkles in Amelia’s brow as she laughs.

 

“What?” she asks, opening her smiling eyes to look at him.

 

“Just remembering something someone told me once,” he replies. “I think I finally got it.”

 

Amelia bites her lips together and nods, her face a snapshot of utter joy that he wants to memorize and recall with perfect clarity for the rest of his life.

 

Her towel is damp when she runs it over his back, but it does the job, especially when she ruffles his hair with it. It’s a quick effort, but neither of them leave puddles as she takes his hand, tugging him into the bedroom.

 

The light in the room is low, but it’s enough to see her clearly. She turns around, wiggling her fingers until she has both of his hands in hers. She walks backward until her knees hit the mattress. Sitting, she scoots back and eases herself onto the bed, tugging him down with her.

 

Will climbs over her, bracing himself with one palm against the mattress as he leans in to kiss her. It’s a soft little brush, his nose nuzzling the side of hers, earning a contended hum. She parts her legs, wrapping her calf around his thigh as she runs a hand down his back. Her fingers stutter against his damp skin and he sighs softly at the way her touch resonates in his soul.

 

“I love you,” she breathes, the words lingering on her lips as long as possible.

 

He smiles, happiness brimming on his face. “I know.”

 

The answering grin she gives him tells him that she knows what he’s saying. She’s seen him at his worst. She knows the doubts that live in his head and poison his heart. He doesn’t think she’s ever doubted that he loves her, but he knows full well she’s aware he doubted her commitment to him. 

 

“We deserve this,” Will adds. She nods. “We deserve each other. To be happy… And my God, Amelia, you make me happy.”

 

She swallows, her eyes watering as she tightens her hold on him. “You make me happy, too.”

 

“I know,” he replies again, feeling the truth of his words to the core of his being. And once again, she understands the importance of that as no one else could.

 

A tiny little sob escapes her as she smiles up at him. She grabs his face to pull him down for a long, heated kiss that lingers on the edges of this moment with a staying power that sends shockwaves through him. He moans loudly, working his lips against hers as his body shudders. It’s not from the chilly air touching his damp skin. It’s entirely from the touch of her fingers lazily stroking up his back as his body settles over hers. 

 

He could do this forever. 

 

A giddy rush of happiness wells up in him as he thinks that maybe he will do just that. Maybe this is how it’ll always be from now on. Maybe she’ll lead him to their bed and remind him that she loves him in every way she can as she shares her body and heart and life with him.

 

Maybe this is what their whole future looks like.

 

She sighs into his mouth as she wraps her other leg around him, leaving her thighs parted. His stiffened cock rests heavily between her folds. He groans at the wicked sensation, struggling for breath as the soft heat of her body threatens to overwhelm him. The feeling shocks him enough that he has to break their kiss to center himself.

 

Will presses his forehead to hers and squeezes his eyes shut. She strokes his back and it occurs to him that the single downside to being on top is that he doesn’t have his hands free to touch her body as he wants. As he _aches_ to.

 

“Hang on a second,” he grunts before flipping them to their sides. She sucks in a quick breath, pulling one of her legs out from under him and using the other to secure him fully to her. He pushes his hands into her tangled, wet hair to brush it back from her face while simultaneously tugging her forward so she’s pressed more fully against him. “There we go.”

 

“I like when we’re like this,” Amelia confesses, turning to kiss his palm. “When you can touch me while you make love to me.”

 

“Me too,” he agrees, trailing his fingers down her throat. She moans and stretches out her neck, giving him more access. Her level of trust in him is astounding sometimes. That she allows him to touch her throat after what she went through is shocking, but that she’s aroused by it absolutely blows him away.

 

A moan slips past her lips and her back arches until her pebbled nipples graze his chest. He runs his tongue along the flat of his teeth, soaking in the glorious sight she makes, reveling in the way she reacts to his touch.

 

His fingers keep trailing down. They run along the outer slope of her breast. He brushes along the underside of it softly with his knuckles, watching her face as she sucks in a quick breath and bites into her lower lip. His free hand smoothes over her hair to cup the back of her head and tug her closer as he leans in to kiss her, eager to free that abused lip of hers and treat it with the gentle reverence it deserves. She’s of the same state of mind, another moan slipping from her as she returns the favor, dropping the softest kiss imaginable to his own slightly-split lip.

 

The muffled sound of his name vibrates against his lips and he brushes his thumb back and forth across the peak of her nipple. Her heel digs into the back of his thigh and she angles her hips slightly, sending a shock of sparks through his groin. He arches his back, rubbing against her instinctively.

 

Amelia’s eyes flutter and her jaw slackens as she pulls back, staring at him with dark eyes.

 

“I just… _oh,”_ she whimpers, blinking hard as she moves against him. A flush rushes across her upper chest and he’s distracted for a moment, wanting to kiss every pink-tinged inch. Amelia swallows hard as she adds a breathless, “Let me grab a condom.”

 

“No.”

 

It’s instinct. And even though he hadn’t thought about it before saying the word, he knows inside the span of a too-fast heartbeat that he’s not going to take it back.

 

Amelia sits up more fully to look at him, the question on her face obvious. His hands stop exploring her curves and peaks and cup her face instead as he stares up at her, needing her to know he means his next words.

 

“You wanted us to be together without it before,” Will reminds her, swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Do you still?”

 

“Yes,” she replies, the word coming out in a breathless rush of air. 

 

“I want that,” he tells her, his heart pounding in his throat. “I’ve never…” His voice cuts off and he lets out a huff of laughter. “You’re the only woman I ever want to be with that way.”

 

He doesn’t have many firsts he can give her, but he thinks maybe they’ll have all the important ones. She’s the first and only woman he’s ever loved. She’s the first and only person he wants to build a life and a future with. She’s the first and only one he wants to open himself up to and share himself with entirely, for better or worse. And one day, he thinks, she’ll be the first and only one he ever proposes to. 

 

But right now there’s _this_ first. An intimacy and vulnerability he’s never allowed himself before. In truth, he’s never even been tempted with anyone else.

 

“You’re sure?” Amelia asks.

 

“I’m sure of us. I’m sure of you,” Will says, leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. “And I’m sure I want to share everything with you. So yes, honey, I’m sure.”

 

If he can make her smile the way she is right now every single day for the rest of their lives, he thinks it’ll be a life well spent. A soft happiness radiates off her as she nods, her eyes watering. “Okay. Yes. I’m sure, too,” she says in a gritty voice.

 

The only downside of kissing her right then is that he loses sight of her face. But he has to feel her against him, has to seal their decision, has to solidify their future. 

 

The world narrows down to him and her and nothing else as their lips touch. His hands go back to trailing over her body, winding around her where he suddenly grips her tight, reinforcing the promise. And then his touch is light again, little more than a skim of callused fingertips across her skin. He leaves a riot of shudders in his wake, a low groan sounding in her throat as goosebumps break out nearly everywhere he touches.

 

“Will,” Amelia breathes against his lips, running her fingers down his bicep to his forearm as his hand reaches between them. She all but chokes on a moan stuck in her throat as his fingers part her folds, finding her already slick.

 

She grabs his wrist, keeping his hand right where it is as her hips rock against his fingers.

 

The sight of her liking his touch, wanting _him,_ is something to behold. 

 

After just a moment, Amelia lets go of his wrist and closes her hand around his cock. He stops all motion, his eyes slamming shut on a quiet moan as she runs her fingers up and down his length. Sparks of sensation ricochete through him at her teasing touch.

 

“Oh…” he gasps, his heart pounding faster. This isn’t even different so far, he thinks absently. There’s nothing unusual about this in the least.

 

Except there also is.

 

 _They’re_ different. The whole future is open before them and they’re approaching each other with a fresh understanding and a clear, joint vision of a happy life absent of everyday fear. The better part of sex is psychological and he’s already accepted that this will be new - more open, more intimate. That knowledge alone changes things.

 

“Amelia… honey…”

 

She pulls her legs up further, opening herself more as she releases her hold on him. She watches him with gentle eyes and softly parted lips as she angles her hips toward him. It’s a clear invitation and a sign she’s ready…

 

But she’s leaving it up to him to take that last step.

 

Nerves flutter in his stomach and his heart pounds maniacally in a way it hasn’t with a woman in a very long time, beating out a tattoo that says just how much this means to him, how important this is.

 

Will’s eyes latch onto hers as he uses two fingers to spread her folds wide. Then, he presses into her as slowly as he can. Sensation bombards him and he chokes out a sigh. God, it’s better than he could have thought possible. His eyes flutter shut as he buries himself inside her inch by inch, her slick heat enveloping him entirely. When he’s fully inside her, he pulls his hand out from between them and grips her hip, letting out a shuddering breath.

 

They’re connected, in the most intimate way possible.

 

His heart _soars._

  
Amelia kisses him, a whisper-gentle press of her mouth to his before she trails her lips up his cheek to his temple. Her body moves a little and he moans, both at the feeling and at her soft affections raining down on him.

 

Will opens his eyes and turns, his nose brushing against her cheek as she pulls back to look at him. 

 

“I love you,” he breathes, just to say it. “Only you. Always.”

 

Her eyes smile back at him. “I know,” she replies.

 

When she starts moving, it’s in slow, small strokes that build everything in the the most incremental way. She lets out a contented noise, a grin spreading across her lips as they move in concert with each other, her fingers stroking down his chest.

 

His hands can’t seem to settle. There’s no part of her that doesn’t call to him. He brushes her damp hair behind her ear and runs his fingers down the knots of her spine to trail around the muscular curve of her ass. From there he drags his fingers up the back of her thigh, tugging on her knee gently when he gets there to hitch her leg up a little further. When she makes a muffled, needy noise and rocks harder against him, he keeps his hand where it is as he kisses her, exploring the depths of her mouth anew.

 

Amelia slides her hand up his chest to touch his face as they kiss, her thumb stroking at the newly regrown scruff along his jaw. She moans, returning his affections with a hunger he feels in his bones. There’s a deep-seated need for unity and affection there that he craves just as much.

 

The position they chose involves more rocking than thrusting, but Will shifts the angle of his hips slightly, readjusting his hold under her knee.

 

“Oh _God,”_ Amelia gasps, breaking their kiss and staring him in the eye. A blush rides high on her cheeks as her jaw slackens, her eyes fluttering with a dazed look. She’s slicker all of a sudden, too, a fresh surge of wetness flooding her.

 

His eyes damn near roll into the back of his head.

 

“Yeah?” he grits out, giving her a lazy half-smile.

 

“God, Will,” she moans, keeping her eyes on him as she runs her nails down his neck. He gives a stifled whimper at that, his skin tingling under her touch. Ducking his head, he urges her to tip her chin back with his nose before fixing his lips to the underside of her jaw.

 

Amelia clenches at his shoulder for a moment before burying her hand in his hair to guide him as he kisses a line down her throat, nipping and sucking in turn before just brushing his lips gently against her skin. It takes him a moment to realize she’s all but chanting his name like a quiet murmured prayer spilling from her lips. He pulls back enough to look at her, finding her pupils blown wide and her jaw dropped. She anchors herself in his gaze, locking on with intense eyes as her body moves faster, desperately seeking release.

 

There’s nothing to say. There’s no guesswork in the way they look at each other, no question in the way his heart beats in time with the flutter of her pulse. The two of them are connected, unified on every level.

 

Will strokes her hair from her brow and holds fast to her leg as he watches her breaths grow faster and the color gather in her cheeks.

 

“Oh, Will… Oh _God,_ honey,” she gasps, her eyes rolling up before slamming shut just before she lets out a desperate cry, her body jerking against his.

 

He’s not sure if the feel of her orgasming around him is really stronger without the condom or if he’s just imagining it, but in the end that doesn’t matter in the least. Her body clenches and pulses around his cock, pushing him toward the brink faster than he could’ve thought possible.

 

“Oh my God,” he breathes, letting go of her knee to cup her ass and hold her as close as possible as his hips lose all rhythm. She falls into him, her lips pressing to his forehead, her hands cupping his face, cradling him close. Will stops breathing entirely as everything builds to a fever pitch. 

 

He comes inside her with blinding intensity, sensation bursting outward from his core, racing across every inch of his skin as he spends himself within her.

 

For an endless moment, he’s suspended in a state of pure bliss, hovering somewhere outside his own body. But her hands run over him and her lips trail across his brow with a soft reverence that’s very physical and very real. And when the fog clears and he comes back to himself, it’s to find her whispering softly against his skin.

 

“I love you, Will. I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too,” he whispers after he finds his voice, blinking toward awareness. He finds himself staring at her with more peace in his heart than he’d thought himself capable of. Will smooths his thumb over her lips. “And I love knowing I’ll get to wake up to you every morning and hold you every night.”

 

“To tell me good morning every morning and goodnight every night?” she asks. “And tell me that you I love me and that I’m incredible in-between.?”

 

Will grins. “Memorized that, did you?”

 

“They were memorable words,” she replies. “You have a way of doing and saying things that etch themselves onto my heart. You always have. You’re the kind of guy a girl keeps fake stuffed flowers from for most of her adult life.”

 

“I still have every voicemail you left me after I got shot,” he admits. She stiffens, her eyes widening slightly as he runs his hand down her arm. “I can’t even count how many times I listened to them. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about calling you back. Years ago, I told you I was done when I walked away from that ambulance. But the truth is that I never was, and I never will be.”

 

Amelia doesn’t say anything. She slips her fingers through his when his hand finishes tracing down the line of her arm. She strokes her thumb over his and he answers in kind. He’s still inside her and neither of them move to change that. It’s exactly where he wants to be, with his body and soul bared to her entirely. It feels right.

 

It feels like home.

 

“Do you ever think about it?” she asks. “All the times we were an _almost,_ I mean? If we’d seen each other first at the campground or if I’d said yes to the fair or hadn’t followed my own lack of common sense to Central City?”

 

He doesn’t answer right away. She’s asked this before, but a lot of things have changed in recent months, and he suspects that he’ll need to reconsider more than a few things.

 

“Not anymore,” Will says after a moment. Her eyebrows twitch up with a hopeful gaze and he knows without her having to say anything that somehow he’s offering the absolution she’d wanted when she first walked into the lair and found him a year ago. “There are different paths we could’ve taken, different lives we could’ve lived. But in the end, Amelia, this is our story. It gave us this place and this moment. And even with all the heartache and regrets along the way, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.”

 

“Yeah,” she whispers with a hopeful smile. “I wouldn’t either. It feels like fate.”

 

“Or providence?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“Maybe just a little,” she agrees, resting her forehead against his. “But whatever it is, I’m glad we followed it, because it gave me you.”

 

“Amelia.” Will pulls back to look at her. “I’ve always been yours. It just took us a little time for me to figure out you were mine, too.”

 

She bites her lip, happy tears filling her eyes as she grins at him with so much joy it makes his chest ache. “Today,” she says with a nod. “And tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after…”

 

Despite the past, despite his previous doubts and reservations - or maybe _because_ of them - Will knows with every fiber of his being that it’s true.

 

“Honey,” he says, touching her cheek with gentle fingers. “I’m counting on it.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reached the end. 
> 
> I'm not sure how to explain how much this story has meant to me. If you love Will and Amelia even half as much as I do, I'll consider that a raging success. But the story itself, to me, is already such a victory. I've learned so much through writing this, and - even if it was frustrating at times - the process and the result have both been so richly rewarding. 
> 
> You can look forward to various iterations of all of these characters in my original works. Ameliam and Julex and Elara and Bookqueen. Beth is a central figure, too. They aren't identical of course, but the inspiration is pretty clear. And, in one series, the names will be too. You can also look forward to more FiCoN 'verse. I'm not done with this world yet. But for now... I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me. <3
> 
> FiCoN 'verse resume with more Pieces of Always posting every-other-Monday starting January 6th.

_One Month Later_

 

It’s funny how much difference a year can make.

 

Last September, Will was in as dark a place as he’s ever been, wallowing in the damaged recesses of his own mind and barely able to function. 

 

Now, though… Well…

 

He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath of fresh air before pushing his sunglasses atop his head. Beside him, Amelia spots the movement and reaches over to squeeze his thigh without missing a beat in her conversation with Beth. The eleven-year-old chatters away, too wrapped up in what she’s saying to notice the way her big brother’s hand settles over Amelia’s, intertwining their fingers with a light squeeze.

 

But she’s not the only one there.

 

“I’ve gotta say…” a voice rumbles next to him. Will glances up to find his dad looking down at him. “I’m getting used to that smile on your face, Will. I like the look of it.”

 

Amelia hears. He knows because she nudges her arm into his affectionately, but she gives them space to have their conversation without her, keeping her focus on Beth.

 

Will grins. “I like the feel of it.”

 

Happiness like this, he knows now, is something he has to fight for. It’s not a constant. He has bad days and so does Amelia. So does Beth. Some nights are harder than others. But he gets now that this is _possible._ He knows what he’s working toward when he hits those low points and that makes all the difference. It’s hard to fight for what you want when you don’t know what it looks like. But he looks at Amelia, at Beth, and at his own face when he’s really and truly happy, and he knows the fight is worth it.

 

He needs those moments to remind him, and he has a feeling he always will.

 

A low point hit for him a week ago, when the department still wouldn’t clear him for going back to work on the truck. The need for whisky had burned at the back of his throat and he’d been snappish with everyone. Amelia had driven him to a meeting for Alcoholics Anonymous without telling him where they were going and informed him he could stay in the car if he wanted, but she was going in. It had taken him twenty minutes, but he’d followed her. He’s pretty sure that’ll go down as one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do and he’s still not sure how much it helped. But it did give him something he had control over and he’d needed that.

 

For the most part, though, things are good.

 

Amelia grounds him, helps him remember that he should believe in himself and fight for himself. Because she would. She _does._ And every time she snags his hand and dances with him in the kitchen, or she twirls her hair around her finger as she chats on the phone with Maggie, or she takes the time to help Beth do her nails, he falls in love with her even more. It’s incredible because it seems impossible. But she winds her way around his heart a little tighter on a daily basis.

 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“This is a big day,” his father says, pulling Will back to the present. “For both of you.”

 

Amelia turns at his words, squeezing Beth’s shoulder in a silent request for a moment away from their conversation. The eleven-year-old doesn’t seem to mind. She cuddles up closer to Amelia with a contented smile that makes Will’s heart just a bit lighter.

 

“I spent most of the last year thinking this wouldn’t happen,” Amelia agrees, eyes darting to the smattering of media and the still-empty space where a microphone and shovel sit just a few feet past the reporters. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

 

“Only because you refused to give up,” Oliver points out.

 

“She’s good at that,” Will chimes in with a wink.

 

Amelia blushes and shakes her head before ducking to kiss his shoulder.

 

Two days after Domino’s arrest, she’d gotten a call from her old boss, Keeley. Very suddenly, it seemed as though everyone wanted that hospital built after all. And the higher-ups that had cancelled the plans in the first place wanted Amelia’s name firmly attached to the project. She thinks that’s because they’d like to pretend they were never influenced to let her go in the first place, but regardless, Will knows she’d been the right person for the job.

 

He curls an arm around her shoulders before glancing at the row behind them.

 

Felicity gives him a giant smile and two thumbs up before nodding at Amelia leaning against him. He doesn’t think she’ll ever get past her giddiness about them being happily together. Nate sits beside his mother, overdressed in a suit and tie. Things have been a little strained with him since the blow up in the lair, but Will doesn’t hold it against his brother. Nate’s never understood Will’s relationship with their grandmother and he probably never will. All-in-all, that might be a good thing. Ellie sits next to Nate. She apologized a few weeks back, both to him and to Amelia. He hadn’t really expected that, but he’d been grateful for it. He’d been even more grateful that she was self-aware enough to recognize most of her annoyance with Amelia had nothing to do with Amelia and everything to do with herself.

 

He can’t see Jules and Alex directly behind him, but Will knows they’re there. And, from the look of disbelief on his father’s face, Jules is probably attempting to whisper something inappropriate or making faces at the back of his head.

 

Once a little sister, always a little sister.

 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” his father says.

 

“Thank you,” Will replies earnestly.

 

Oliver’s lips twitch in amusement. “I was talking to your girlfriend,” he tells him before gripping Will’s shoulder. “But I’m proud of you, too, now that you bring it up.”

 

Amelia chuckles as Will blushes. She sweeps her fingers over his pinkened cheek while he shakes his head at himself. Beth snickers, making no attempt to mask the noise. Her father beside her is at least a little more discreet about it.

 

He’s discreet about a lot of things, Will’s discovered, since both David and Beth moved into the condo. For all that Beth feels at home in his space, Will knows his stepfather doesn’t. He makes himself scarce and apologizes regularly for being there, no matter how many times Will tells him not to. They’re moving out this weekend, having bought a small home in a good neighborhood with no traumatic memories attached to it. And, as much as Will has been glad to have them stay with him, he can’t say he’s not looking forward to being alone with Amelia more.

 

Or… _mostly_ alone, anyhow. She got him a puppy for his birthday, something his therapist had supported, and Will found himself more excited about the furry addition to their family than he could’ve expected. Lexi, their little golden retriever, isn’t quite old enough to be apart from her mother yet, but Will’s already spent enough time researching puppy care and training that he’s managed to impress Jules.

 

“Thank you, Oliver,” Amelia replies, pulling Will back to the present. “But it wasn’t just me. We wouldn’t be at this groundbreaking today if it wasn’t for your entire family. Every one of you makes such a difference in this city in so many ways.”

 

“Yes, well…” His father pauses to lick his lips before giving a smile that Will is not entirely comfortable with. “Guess that means you’ll fit right in with the family, then.”

 

Will’s eyes widen as he gives his father an incredulous stare.

 

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity chastises from behind them with a low hiss.

 

His father gives her an innocent shrug. “What?” 

 

Will feels Amelia stiffen at his side as she sucks in a quick breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees her turning bright pink and chewing on her lip as she stares at her fingers. For that reason alone, he wishes his dad hadn’t said a word.

 

But it also tells him loud and clear that he should wait a bit before dropping down on one knee with that small diamond ring he bought a couple days ago. He’s not in a rush. He knows she’s the one. He’s pretty sure she knows it too, but he’s going to wait to ask until he knows she’s ready to give an answer.

 

And that’s not yet.

 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after this?” Oliver asks, trying to smoothly step past his comment. His tone is serious and focused enough that the color returns to normal on Amelia’s face and her frame loosens a bit. “You were just brought back on contract to get the hospital built, right?”

 

“To clear up all the red tape, yes,” Amelia replies. “And next… We’re going somewhere where they put little umbrellas in very fruity drinks.”

 

Will grins, his eyes locking with hers. “Yes, we are.”

 

It’s not a long trip and they’re trying to keep it as cheap as possible. Their income is a little messy right now with her job done and him working only part-time on desk duty at the firehouse. Plus, they want to be back as soon as Lexi can come home with them. But they need this vacation, and they’ve both been looking forward to it for weeks.

 

“I meant professionally,” Oliver clarifies with a chuckle. “Although I’m glad you’re taking some downtime, too. You’ve both earned it.”

 

“We have,” Amelia agrees, still looking at Will before letting her eyes tick back to Oliver.

 

“You know,” his father starts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. It catches Will’s eye and he wonders what exactly his dad is plotting. “You’d make a fine politician, Amelia. You’ve got the best interests of the city at heart. We could use a mayor like that, and I have it on good authority that the party would back you if you were interested in running.”

 

Will’s heart lurches into his throat as his eyes bug out at his dad. From the way Amelia goes very still again, he suspects she’s having much the same reaction. 

 

It takes her a moment to find her voice. 

 

“I never wanted to run for office,” she says slowly.

 

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do well at it,” Oliver replies.

 

Will’s mind scrambles, trying to think of a way to shut this down. Would she be a good mayor? God, yes. But it’s the last thing he wants for her right now. Maybe that’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t care. He can only imagine the increased danger, the public scrutiny, all the dirty laundry that might come out. It’s enough to make his heart rate shoot up and it’s not even real yet. They _just_ found a measure of peace. They _just_ got to a place where they aren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for the shadows to start moving of their own accord.

 

He doesn’t want to go back.

 

“Thank you,” Amelia says. “I really do appreciate it…”

 

“But you’re going to decline,” Oliver finishes with a nod. “Something told me you would.”

 

“It’s just…” Her voice breaks and Will looks at her, unable to hide his relief or the slightly frantic flutter of his eyelids. She looks from him, down to Bethy, and back again. “I know what I want from my life now. And that’s not it.”

 

“That’s the best reason in the world,” Oliver says.

 

The words barely register, though. They can’t, with Amelia staring at Will the way she is, her fingers intertwined with his, everything about her openly declaring that what she wants from life is _him._

 

“I have some connections through Keeley and through Ellie for contract work with a few non-profits,” Amelia says, looking back at Will’s father for a moment. “I was thinking I might do that. I’d like something with more flexible hours where I can work from home sometimes. I want to be able to manage my own workload, so if I have a bad day, or if Will or Beth do, I can take the time I need to be present and work through that instead. That’s where my priorities are.”

 

Will knew that was her plan and he knew her reasons, but hearing them spoken out loud to his father makes his heart swell.

 

He shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and presses a kiss to her shoulder in silent reply.

 

“That sounds like a better plan than mine,” Oliver says with a quiet smile. “I’ll leave you two be and take a seat with my wife so she can not-so-subtly smack me for making comments about you joining the family.”

 

“I give her two weeks before she’s making those comments herself,” Will mutters against Amelia’s shoulder. 

 

She laughs, but she doesn’t contradict his words.

 

His father steps away and Will tilts his head up, resting his chin on the edge of Amelia’s shoulder as he looks at her. She’s still a little flushed, biting her lips together as she often does, but she meets his gaze with a soft, _“Hi,”_ that all but makes his heart do a backflip in his chest.

 

 _“Hi,”_ he mouths back. Will takes their joined hands and brings them up to kiss her inner wrist. Her pulse flutters under his lips and she exhales a soft, shaky sigh at the moment of contact. “I’m not pressing you for anything,” he tells her. “That’s just them talking. You know that, right?”

 

“I know,” she replies, scratching at the back of her neck in a way that tells him she wasn’t entirely certain. “That would be a little fast.”

 

“A little,” he agrees, holding her gaze when she finally looks back at him. “But not a lot.”

 

She grows very, very still. She searches his eyes before finally lowering her hand from the back of her neck down to her lap. “No,” she agrees on a nervous breath. “Not a lot.”

 

It’s not a promise. It’s not a _yes_. But it feels like one, anyhow, and Will’s heart trips all over itself.

 

He forgets about the entire row of his family behind them and Beth and David right next to them. He forgets about the rows of reporters and her boss-of-the-moment and the various VIPs and politicians milling about. In this instant, it’s just her and him. Just them sitting in the sunshine with an unspoken agreement and the future stretched out before them, looking like everything he ever wanted.

 

“Is this starting soon?” Beth asks, jarring them back to the present. “It’s getting hot out here.”

 

 _“It’s getting hot out here,”_ he mouths at Amelia, letting his eyes trail down to the v-neck of her peach blouse before looking up and raising both eyebrows at her.

 

Amelia rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she gives him a look that scolds without using words. “Soon,” she says, before looking back at Beth. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It looks like they’re waiting on the chief to start. Today’s a hard day for him.”

 

“Oh,” Beth says. Will looks past Amelia to find his baby sister working through that bit of information. “Right. Because his wife died a year ago today.”

 

“Yes,” Amelia confirms. That she doesn’t absently touch her neck as she says it feels like progress. “But today he gets to help break ground on the Laurel Lance Memorial Hospital. She wanted this place built and it means a lot to him, too. He’s the one who picked today to do this.”

 

Beth’s brow furrows. “Why, though?” she asks, looking up with childish innocence. “If it was going to be hard for him, why’d he pick today?”

 

That’s an answer Will knows intimately and he’s happy to give it.

 

“Because it’s going to be hard either way,” he tells her. “And sometimes you need to have the good along with the bad. You need to remind yourself that the bad isn’t all there is. He’s _always_ going to miss his wife, but he’ll know that he honored her in a way she would’ve appreciated. And maybe that will help him cope a little.”

 

“Oh,” Beth replies distantly as she works with that idea. “I guess. Maybe.”

 

“You’re a pretty smart guy, Will Queen,” Amelia says with a soft smile. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

 

“I guess I have my moments.”

 

“Well, I’m glad to be here for every one of them,” she says, lacing their fingers together tighter and bringing his hand up to kiss his inner wrist, just as he’d done with her.

 

There’s an evenness about the action, a reciprocal nature that takes his breath away.

 

“Me too,” he echoes.

 

It hits him, then, that while he’s loved her for ages and been attracted to her from the start, _this_ is who he always needed. Someone who understands the struggles he’s gone through and stands by him regardless. Someone who supports him and has gone through her own trials along the way. Maybe they could’ve made things work five years ago, maybe even ten years ago. He doesn’t know. But he does know that they’re both exactly who the other one needs _now._

 

With a happy sigh, Will smiles as he turns his face upward, letting the sun shine down on him.

 

Life, it seems to him, for all its twists and turns, has a way of putting you right where you need to be.


End file.
